


Deliverance

by PeachyParchment



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Female Frisk, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hearing Voices, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Psychological Trauma, SAVING and Resetting, Saving the World, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyParchment/pseuds/PeachyParchment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk promised she would save everyone this time. But to do so, she will need to put up with the voices in her head, the patches in her memory and her regrets crawling on her back. This is it. One final, TRUE RESET.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fabled Mountain

Happiness.

   
Oddly enough, a mountain long since abandoned by anyone sane happened to be a place where Frisk experienced such an emotion.  
   
Just this morning, she had been pushed out of the car door and into the grating dirt as her mother scolded her. She drove away shaking her head and muttering something with a scowl etched into her vain features. Frisk did not think too much of her mother's actions but she certainly was not happy about them.  
   
And now, she was skipping along the trail up Mt. Ebott, humming softly to herself. She lagged behind the other children, not being much for conversation and socialisation. She did however, glance over at her teacher every once in a while, watching her fight to keep things in order.  
   
The overly flustered woman was clearly trying her best to herd together the gaggle of geese that was her class of seven year olds. She tried at first to address them all as one but there were always a few children who talked over and teased the others. Eventually, she called them all to attention by bellowing ‘silence’ loudly.  
   
She gazed around the brood of rowdy children, her eyes falling final upon Frisk. She had separated herself from the main group, standing beside a sprawling oak tree. She had been listening to her teacher this entire time, unlike her brethren. She happened to be interested in what she had to say; the topic was monsters after all. Ever since Frisk could barely talk, she had been intrigued by them.  
   
Today, the teacher had taken her class on a field trip to Mt. Ebott, a place that, according to legend, imprisons all the monsters of the old world beneath it. Of course, she didn’t really believe in such outrageous stories – she had merely orchestrated the trip to keep all the children entertained on the final day of school.  
   
Frisk believed the stories though, to some extent. Childhood optimism, you could say. She had read books in the library about them, having snuck them home just so she could read them after hours. Eerily, she actually felt a sense of familiarity with some of the things she had read.  
   
So naturally, she jumped at the chance to explore the infamous mountain.  
   
Frisk listened as the teacher informed everyone that it was time for lunch, instructing the children to sit in an orderly fashion and avoid making too much of a mess. As soon as she had finished speaking, the children broke out in a hush of murmurs and squeals as they got into their little groups and found somewhere nearby to sit.  
   
Since Frisk wasn’t all that fond of her classmates (they teased her tirelessly when they were bored), she decided to sneak a little bit further away from the group. She felt so rebellious doing so but at least she got more of a chance to explore the forests that clung to the rocky hills of Mt. Ebott. Maybe she might even encounter a monster? Her heartbeat quickened at the thought.  
   
Whilst the teacher had her back turned to attend to some children who were throwing leaves, she snuck away from the group. She pushed her way through a small bush and into the thick, fir trees beyond. She let out a heavy sigh, smiling as she kicked a few clumps of mushy, slimy dead leaves from her path.  
   
Craning her neck and looking towards the sky, she could see hints of blue through the leaves of the trees. Light filtered down and formed patterns of shifting colours on the undergrowth beneath her boots. The air had a musky, damp feel and smell to it. She could hear an animal of some description jump and weave through the trees, though they were always too fast for her eyes to track.  
   
It felt so calm and peaceful here, yet it had an air of mystery to it that awed young Frisk.  
   
She had just bent down to smell a pretty red flower when her head suddenly felt heavy, as if packed with damp cotton. She swayed to the side, bracing an arm against a nearby to stop herself from falling as an image filled her mind. Was it…herself? She quickly recognised her favourite jumper and pudgy figure. Yet oddly enough, her eyes were set with an edge of maturity that she lacked as she was. As soon as the image had appeared, it disappeared, leaving Frisk dazed and confused.  
   
She stared up at the mountain above through a break in the canopy, waiting for the confusion in her head to clear. Since recalling the image again unnerved her, she decided to let it slip for now as she continued drifting further and further away from her class.  
   
Yet it never occurred to her to turn back. As she climbed up the mountain’s steep hills, she was filled with more and more determination. Despite the dropping temperature and the sheer lonely aura the desolate place had begun to emit, she was overcome with a nostalgia that she couldn’t explain.  
   
Soon enough, she had become tired (a young girl can only walk so far). She sat on a nearby mossy rock, deciding to calm down for a little to eat her lunch. Shrugging her backpack off her shoulders, it hit the ground with a slump. She had decided that she would re-join with the group soon, since she was becoming concerned about being lost up here. As nice and mysterious as it was, she didn’t want to spend the night there.  
   
She remained there for a little while longer as she finished off her sandwich, listening to the sounds of birdsong on the air. She tried to ignore the creeping feeling of anticipation in the back of her mind, like something was about to happen.  
   
Eventually, she got to her feet again, feeling good after her meal. She figured that it was time to head back since her teacher would most likely be upset over her disappearance. She gripped her fingers around the strap of her backpack, about to turn back when she caught something out of the corner of her eyes.  
   
To the left of the trail she was following, was a gaping hole in the earth. A rocky outcrop overhung it partially, a number of tree roots sprawling over the cliff and into the hole. Frisk noticed that the path split off in a tiny, deer track towards it. She stared at the hole for a moment, tense. She felt strange again, a few puffs of cotton clogging her mind. Curiosity burned within her along with a sense of desperation. She let go of her backpack.  
   
Inexplicably, that rupture in the earth was calling for her.  
   
Turning away from the main path, she pushed her way through the narrow trail of downtrodden leaves towards the hole. She was very careful as to assure that she didn't fall head first into it. Once she had gotten a good metre away from it, she dared to peer over the crumbling lip of the hole.  
   
Fear shuddered in her bones, prompted her to hug her arms around her chest. She couldn't see the bottom of the hole - all she could see was inky blackness. She was unsure what to do now that she had sauntered all the way here. It was calling to her louder than ever but she was much too fearful of falling to simply jump in. She had a moment of uncertainty.  
   
Soon, a feeling began to develop within Frisk. That feeling informed her that through some way or another, if she was to jump down there, she would live. Slightly reassured, she inched a little closer to the edge, still staring warily into the darkness below.  
   
What was the point of jumping though? Why do it? She had people that cared for her up here, like my classmates, teacher, parents, so on. They would miss her and grieve over her disappearance intensely. She thought of her parents smiling and embracing her with happy tears in their eyes, whispering in choked sobs about how much they missed her and how worried they were.  
   
Who was she kidding?  
   
The thought of Frisk’s parents doing something like that made the poor girl smile wistfully. A single glance at the Band-Aids and bruises covering her skin reminded her of who they really were.  
   
For some time now, Frisk had yearned to disappear. She had dreamed of running away to a place of wonder and excitement in which no one would ever hurt her. But even she, in her young age, knew that was farfetched.  
Her mind supplied her with images of everything that had happened to her over the past, well, ever. She should have hope that one day things will get better. But, due to her one-track mind, she doubted there was a chance of that ever happening with the kind of people she was stuck with.  
   
But maybe, just maybe, on this fabled mountain, she could get away from it all?  
She took a deep, steady breath.  
   
She held it, reminding herself once again that really no one would miss her anyway.  
   
Then she jumped.


	2. Fallen Away

Frisk immediately regretted having made such a bold move.

For a brief moment, just as she entered the hole, she felt an intense tingling all over, her body feeling as though it had just run into something. That feeling soon passed however, leaving behind a damp sheen on her body, as if she had just been doused in water.

Cold air whipped through her hair and clothes as she plummeted like a rock into the abyss below. She held my arms out, flailing as she screamed helplessly. Fear and adrenalin ran rampant through her veins as she continued to fall. She hadn't much idea of how long she was falling but it felt as though hours had passed. Tears welled in her eyes, trailing up into the air due to the opposing wind.

Then finally, it was all over.

Frisk's body landed suddenly, knocking all the air from her lungs. Her mind swirled, body tingling from the afterglow of the impact. Yet, surprisingly enough, she had sustained no damage whatsoever. Normally, a fall from such a great height would kill someone so the fact that she was unscathed was a miracle.

Her vision was blurry due to the pain pounding in her head. It took a few minutes to regain her composure and pull her aching body into a sitting position. Tears still dripped down her cheeks, though they were at a slower pace now. Wiping tears and snot away with her sleeve, she tried to compose herself.

She stared at the space before her, finding that a bed of buttercups had cushioned her fall. A number of them were crushed due to the weight of her body. She reached a small hand to her head, finding that a few stray petals had become entangled in her locks of brown hair. She picked them out as she turned her attention above.

The hole she had fallen through was a speck way above, about the size of a large coin. Light filtered down to the flower patch below, making the petals look shiny and lustrous. The walls of the cavern were made of dark, scraggly stone that looked slimy to the touch. A few columns of crumbling marble could be spotted here and there. Water could be heard dripping into small pools somewhere beyond my line of sight. The air was tainted with the smell of moisture and must.

The longer she sat there, the more wary she became of her environment. She had just fallen into Mt. Ebott, a place that is rumoured to be the prison of hundreds of monsters after all. She was excited, of course, but just like anyone else, she was frightened too. She hadn't figured she would actually end up inside the mountain, at the beck and call of the monsters.

She noticed there was a sturdy-looking stick lying in the flowers beside her. It wouldn't offer much protection but it was better than nothing. She picked it up and shakily drew herself into a standing position, using the stick as a brace. She stared about her, wandering a few feet away from the flowerbed. There had to be a way out of this room somewhere. She soon laid eyes on a gate nestled into the walls at the front of the cavern. It was ajar, much to her convenience.

Cautiously, she made her way towards it, leaving the flower patch and the light that shone above it. It was dark and since her eyes hadn't had time to adjust, she had to feel her way through the dark spaces, pulling a face as she touched damp, mossy walls. She felt, understandingly enough, like a monster was going to suddenly appear and strike her down.

Soon, she found herself in another room, one very similar to the previous cavern. Except instead of a patch of buttercups, there was a small bed of grass. Hesitantly, she made her way towards it, spotting another gate at the other side of the room. She was a couple feet away from the grass when a larger buttercup suddenly sprouted right before her.

Startled, she reeled backwards, clutching her stick harder just in case.

To her astonishment, this particular flower had a face.

He beamed radiantly at her as innocently as it could muster. However, those beady black eyes held hints of mock and twisted joy at the sight of such a small human. He swayed to and fro gently, his waxy petals bouncing rhythmically with the motion. He looked friendly enough to Frisk since she was unable to sense the sly aura the flower was giving off.

"Howdy!" he greeted cheerfully. A hot flash of something rang through her mind, making her part my lips and gasp softly. For a brief moment, the fact a flower had just spoken to her felt commonplace. "I'm Flowey-"

"Flowey the flower," she interrupted suddenly in a low whisper. She clapped her small hands over her mouth. The words just fell from her lips without her consent. She didn't know what came over her and apparently, neither did Flowey.

"Ah, that's my line," he grumbled. His expression changed to one of slight annoyance for a few moments before he caught himself and put his sickly sweet smile back on. _Good, this is good,_ he assured himself.

"Any who," he continued. "You're new to the underground, aren't 'tcha?" Frisk nodded slowly. She felt like she had heard all this before yet she couldn't voluntarily recall having ever met a talking flower. "Golly, you must be so confused. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here! I guess little ol' me will have to do. Ready? Here we go!"

In a flash of white light, Frisk felt a tugging sensation in her chest. To her utter shock, she found that a small, red heart was now floating a couple inches in front of her. Startled, she looked over to the flower for clarification.

"That's your soul, the very culmination of your being!" he explained helpfully. He then went on to explain LOVE and how it is needed to boost the strength of one's soul.

While he spoke, Frisk discovered that her soul moved in the same directions as she did, meaning that it was still very much attached. He asked if she would like some LOVE which, of course, she did in a dangerous place like this.

He winked, prompting her heart to flutter in her chest. In a burst of colour, spare petals arranged themselves in an arc above his head. For some reason, the sight of them made Frisk uneasy despite the flower telling her they meant well.

"Down here, LOVE is shared through little, white, 'friendliness pellets'," he went on. The petals began to glow a soft white. "Are you ready? Move around, get as many as you can!" As he spoke, the pellets slowly began to move towards her. Something deep within her screamed at her to move but she ignored it.

Frisk reached out and caught as many petals as she could.

She regretted it.

Intense pain singed her nerves, prompting her to drop to the stony ground. She panted heavily, noticing that her soul was now shaking violently, as if about to break. Her vision began to cloud as the pain dulled her senses. She looked up at the flower with betrayal in her eyes, tears pricking the corners.

It was then that she noticed he was laughing at her; scathing, high pitched, mocking laughter. For a moment, Frisk was reminded of her mother's cold laughter. The cheery expression on his face had twisted into sick joy as he stared at her weakened form.

"You idiot," he purred. His face had changed entirely now, to one with massive, grimy teeth and an intense, sly glare. "In this world, it's-"

"Kill or be killed," she finished out of the blue in a shaky whisper. Where those words came from, she had no idea. But that didn't matter. What did matter was that she was now trembling with fear in the gaze of the evil plant. Flowey raised an eyebrow before continuing.

Remember, Flowey thought, make my job easier for once.

"If you knew the rules, you should have acted by them," he mused. "Why would anyone pass up an opportunity like this?" A ring of fresh petals formed around him, glowing with the same light as before. Frisk's burning muscles tensed as she attempted to scramble away from him, but to no avail.

"DIE!" he screeched gleefully. She squeezed your eyes shut, fearing the pain that she believed was coming next. For a split second, she pondered just what death would feel like.

Thankfully, she was mistaken.

She heard a burst of flame whizz past her, following by an exclamation of shock from Flowey. Breathing heavily, fear made her reluctant to open her eyes again. You were terrified of what you may see.

"What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth," spoke a soft, kind voice. Frisk pulled open one of her eyes but she were unable to see clearly through her bleary eyes. "Ah, do not be afraid, my child." Her voice and words calmed her down enough to dare to open both eyes and rub the tears away.

Standing before her was some kind of goat-person?

She towered above Frisk though she didn't intimidate her in the slightest. Her tufts of white fur shimmered in the beams of light drifting down from a hole in the cavern above. She wore a long, white and purple tunic that reached to her ankles, with a triangular symbol on it that Frisk did not recognise. She smiled sweetly, earnestly, unlike that flower. There was nothing but kindness and pity in her eyes. She extended a paw down to Frisk which she reluctantly took.

She helped her up, placing her paw on her shoulder for a moment. A warm, orange light glowed about you suddenly. Frisk's soul receded back into her chest as her injuries began to fade along with her fatigue and fear. The goat-monster then let go, giving her some space.

She went on to explain that her name was Toriel and that she was the caretaker of the Ruins. She told Frisk that she would venture to this place every day to check if anyone had fallen down.

"I wasn't expecting a human to fall down so soon after the last..." she trailed off. Confusion dashed across her features for a moment. She placed a paw on top of her head, pain in her eyes for a second. "No, that's not right. There hasn't been a human in the Underground for ages, silly," she corrected herself.

"Come, I will guide you through the catacombs."

After wrongly placing her trust in that flower, Frisk was briefly wary of the goat woman and her true intentions. However, that gaze of pure innocence and love won her over. She stepped closer to her and nodded, sending her a small smile. She delighted in this, taking off towards a door at the opposite end of the cave. Frisk followed her immediately.

True to her word, Toriel led Frisk throughout the catacombs of Ruins, teaching the young human about puzzles and that she would need to learn about them in order to survive in the Ruins. Toriel also taught her about fighting; that Frisk was to pick up a friendly conversation with a monster until she arrived to scare the monster off.

As Frisk followed Toriel, she was filled with determination after each and every puzzle. However, the moment where she was filled with the most determination was when she saw the shadow of the Ruins looming above as she stepped through the stone doors inside. Frankly, Frisk didn't mind the Ruins too much as of yet – they were warm and relatively dry with warm light streaming from cracks in the ceiling. Patches of autumn leaves lay on the ground here and there, which she delighted in crinkling through.

Toriel had described the place as 'her new home' yet Frisk still wasn't totally comfortable with the thought of living amongst a bunch of monsters. Then again, even these monsters were kinder than the ones on the surface.

Finally, after traversing a long hallway with many, sturdy stone pillars, Frisk listened to Toriel's newest set of instructions.

"I must attend to some business so you must stay here for a little while. It's dangerous to explore by yourself," she told her gravely, worry in her eyes. Frisk was unnerved by this since she didn't know how long Toriel would be gone for and she knew she weren't totally safe here. Toriel sighed heavily upon seeing her expression. Suddenly, she lightened up again as an idea came to her.

"I have an idea! I will give you a cell phone," she smiled. She fumbled around in the pockets of her tunic for a few moments before finally pulling out a very old cell phone. Frisk had never had one before so she had to ask Toriel to show her how to use it.

Toriel looked worried again. "Be good, okay?" she said in parting. Frisk nodded obediently, deciding to stay right in that room until she returned. With that taken care of, Toriel smiled concernedly before leaving her to her lonesome. Frisk stood there for a few moments, listening to the silence. She shuddered involuntarily as she sat herself down in front of a stone pillar, praying that no monsters would attack whilst Toriel was gone.

Toriel called her a couple times to ask her about some bits and pieces before leaving her alone. She somehow guessed that her favourite out of butterscotch and cinnamon was cinnamon. Frisk found this odd since Toriel did not know her but, in her innocence; she brushed it off without much thought.

Some time passed yet Toriel was nowhere to be seen. Frisk hugged her knees close to her chest as she watched a Froggit hop lazily past her without paying her any mind. She was beginning to wonder if the goat-woman was actually going to come back. She shuddered at the memory of her father leaving her out in the cold at school one night, having forgotten to pick her up.

Deep within Frisk, a whisper made itself known.

[She's not coming back, you know.]

Startled, the girl looked up, glancing around her. Was it a monster that had spoken to her? Upon surveying the corridor, she found that in the instance she heard the voice; there was no one around but herself. She waited again for the voice to speak, yet it didn't. All she heard was a faint giggle in the back of her mind.

Maybe that voice was right, she thought. Maybe that goat was not coming back for her after all. Scrunching up her features in resignation, she sighed shakily, preparing to get up and find a way out of here on her own. But before she did, she laid eyes upon her cell phone.

Oh, she could check with Toriel.

She clicked on her number in the contacts, pressing the phone to her ear. She waited anxiously for her to pick up, her heart thudding quicker in her chest in anticipation. Luckily, she did, prompting the human to let go of the breath she had been holding.

"Hello? Are you alright, my child?" she asked, sounding generally interested in Frisk's wellbeing. Smiling sheepishly, the girl asked if she was doing okay and if she was still coming back for her. Toriel gasped in shock, as if Frisk's words had hurt her. Honestly, with the time she was taking to get back, Toriel had thought the child would have already left the corridor. And to think she thought she wasn't coming back for her…?

"Of course, why would I leave you alone in such a dangerous place? Worry not, I will pick you up soon," she comforted. "I had some troubles with a dog, is all. But that's all sorted now. For now, just try to relax." Frisk muttered a 'yes' before Toriel hung up. Alone again, and filled with determination once more, she decided to continue waiting for her.

She eventually did return, right in the middle of a solitary 'I Spy' game. Frisk sighed in relief and smiled sheepishly upon seeing her. She appeared to be rather flustered - her fur was a mess. She held two grocery bags in one of her paws and her cell phone in the other.

[Well this is new, aren't you happy?]

That voice muttered again, yet Frisk ignored the statements for the most part as she hopped to her feet. She skipped over to Toriel, wrapping her arms around her legs as she snuggled her face into her tunic. She smiled happily as a couple tears leaked from her eyes. Someone came back for her; someone made the effort to care.  
"Oh!" she exclaimed at the sudden show of affection. "Were you that worried?" Frisk let go of Toriel, blushing a little after her outburst. Toriel giggled girlishly before gazing warmly down at her. "Well, I am here now and you are safe and sound."

After that, Toriel guided Frisk throughout the rest of the catacombs. Together, they solved a multitude of puzzles. Frisk talked to many monsters along the way, enjoying herself. Toriel scared off each one with a cold glare before they could hurt her, much to her relief. Finally, they made it to a cosy cottage deep within the Ruins.

Seeing such an inviting home in such a desolate place instantly filled Frisk with determination. She felt and odd power thrum through her body, the same one she had experienced when she first entered the Ruins. She studied the facade of the cottage, unable to shake the feeling of relief and nostalgia whilst gazing at it.

The house was constructed entirely of purple bricks which almost blended into the surrounding cavern walls and ground. A warm, yellow light glowed from beyond its rectangular shaped windows. In the centre of the cavern sat an ancient, blackened tree. The ground was blanketed in thick leaf litter which crunched under their feet as they walked

[Home.]

In a sudden, hot flash, Frisk came to a standstill. Her head pounded as she screwed her eyes shut, already tearing up at the pain. An image of herself came to her mind again. She was walking side by side with Toriel, smiling cheerily, if not a little eerily, as she entered the cabin after her. As soon as the visions came, they faded, enabling her to regain her senses.

"My child!" called Toriel as she rushed to her side, clearly panicked. Frisk smiled meekly at her as she tried to come up with some kind of explanation. Toriel took her hand before she could even speak. "You must be very tired. Let's head inside. I'll prepare some supper while you rest." Frisk nodded feebly, pleased to be going inside such a safe-looking place.


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to go downhill after this chapter.

As Frisk stepped inside Toriel's home, the scent of sweet butterscotch and cinnamon tickled her nose and prompted her stomach to pine noisily. The goat woman chuckled as she rubbed her aching belly.

"Do you smell that?" Toriel giggled pleasantly. "Surprise! It is a butterscotch-cinnamon pie!" Frisk's mouth watered at the mention of such a delicious treat. That explains why Toriel was asking her those questions about butterscotch and cinnamon earlier.

"I thought we might celebrate your arrival. I want you to have a nice time living here. So I will hold off on snail pie for tonight." Frisk was not sure if Toriel was joking about the snail pie or not but honestly, she had no desire to come into contact with a pie made of snails. She wondered if goats even ate snails.

"I have another surprise for you," Toriel smiled. She gently grasped Frisk's hand and lead her down a hallway to the right. They both came to a stop before the first door in the hall.

"Here we are. A room of your own, I hope you like it." Frisk's heart skipped a beat, prompting her to stare up at Toriel in surprise. Back on the surface, her parent's apartment only had one bedroom, so she always had to sleep on the couch. Once her heart's pace returned to normal, she found that it beat with happiness and affection towards the kind goat monster.

Toriel smiled sweetly, placing a paw onto Frisk's head and gingerly ruffling her locks of dark brown hair. She smiled shyly at the touch, not being used to such signs of affection. It was only when she drew her paw away that Frisk noticed the faint scent of smoke in the air.

"Is something burning...?" Toriel asked herself. "Well, make yourself at home." Hastily, she bustled off; leaving Frisk to explore the place she supposed was her home now. Frisk smiled after her, wondering for a moment how things would have been like before if her mother was as kind as her. Despite having just met Toriel, a monster from a world she had only heard of in myths, she felt as though she could place her trust in her.

Why not stay? Frisk had nowhere she would rather be. Her mind was made up as she stepped into her bedroom for the first time. She grinned childishly as she took in the decor of her room, completely happy with what she had been given. Already, it was much more than she had before.

The colour scheme of the room consisted mostly of soft white, yellow and cream - all of which Frisk found relaxing. The wooden floorboards creaked as you walked upon them. There was a plush rug in the centre of the room that she reminded herself to lay down on later.

There were plenty of toys in a wooden toy box at the foot of the bed and on the bed itself. There was a book shelf packed with a myriad of books of all types and genres. There was a cute, crayon drawing of a buttercup on the wall with a glowing, smiling face. It reminded Frisk of Flowey so she quickly tore her eyes away from it. In the closet were a few changes of clothes that probably would not fit her. She sat on the edge of the bed, running her hand along the warm, faded red quilt.

She let loose a long yawn, finding that she was much more tired than she thought. Feeling safe enough in this cosy room, she kicked off her boots and buried herself under the covers. She rested her weary head against the fluffed up pillow, quickly falling into a peaceful slumber.

[You can't sleep forever, Frisk, wake the hell up.]

[Chara…please wake up! You are the future of all humans and monsters.]

A number of voices in Frisk's head provoked her to wake. She couldn't remember much of what they said, but she knew they mentioned something about waking up. Nevertheless, she felt much better than she had for a long time, despite her hunger. She wondered where she was for a moment before the memories all came rushing back. Frisk sat there in disbelief for a short while, before taking notice of a delicious scent in the air.

She followed her nose to a plate in front of her bed so she hopped out of bed to investigate. Sitting on that place was the most scrumptious looking pie she had ever seen. It appeared to be layered, the bottom consisting of a cinnamon sponge cake with a thick layer of orange, buttercup-flavoured icing on top. Cinnamon was sprinkled thinly over the top, with a perfect swirl of cream perched atop it all. That must have been the pie Toriel was baking. Without second thought, Frisk gave into her hunger and eagerly dug in, not caring for any mess she made in the process.

It was more filling than she had expected. By the time you she finished, she was entirely content. Grinning earnestly for once in a very long time, she left her room so she could find Toriel and thank her for everything she had done for her. A bold move for such a young girl – she just felt so grateful.

She made her way into what appeared to be the lounge and dining area. Toriel sat in a comfy reclining chair by a roaring fire, a pair of reading glasses perched upon her snout. She poured meticulously over the book she was reading. The scent of fire, butterscotch and fresh flowers still clung to the air. She looked up upon seeing Frisk and smiled happily. Frisk had never experienced such a kind awakening in her life.

"You slept for quite some time, my child," she told her. "I just want you to know how glad I am to have someone here. There are so many old books I want to share." You noticed the bookshelf beside the fire, packed with dusty and rickety books. "I've also prepared a curriculum for your education." Frisk did was not keen about that but as long as she was not surrounded by annoying kids, she could deal with it.

"So ... this place is home now?" Frisk spoke up softly. Toriel seemed surprised by the sound of her voice. She nodded. "…Does that mean you're my mom now?" She seemed flustered by the question for a few movements but she soon regained her composure.

"If calling me your mother pleases you than yes," she replied with a beaming grin. Frisk smiled just as radiantly back. She got the feeling that life here would be much, much better here than it was on the surface despite her having to live with monsters. Frankly, goat mom was already taking better care of her than her real parents were.

"Thank you mom, for everything," Frisk whispered shyly, gripping the hems of her jumper.

"No problem at all, my child."

And thus, Frisk began living with a fluffy goat monster.


	4. Flowey's Manipulation

It felt right, living with Toriel, as if things were always meant to be this way.

Those strange headaches and confusions settled down fairly soon, any subsequent flashes being less painful and vivid. The voices died down to, only the occasional, trivial utterance coming to mind. Frisk, out of concern, told Toriel about them but she could not figure them out either.

She also told her about your parents. For the first time, Frisk saw hatred in Toriel's eyes, hatred aimed towards the human's parents. She poor girl could not help being scared by the intensity of Toriel's glare.

She promised she would never treat Frisk like they did as she removed the grubby bandages from her body, revealing small scars and bruises. According to her, the scars only showed how strong Frisk was and that there was no need to hide them. Frisk cried a little at her words, deeply moved and unable to comprehend the depths of Toriel's kindness.

As time went on, Frisk learnt many things. Toriel had begun home-schooling her, educating her in monster history, maths and science. She discovered that snail pie really was not as bad as she thought it would be and grew to become rather fond of it. She also began to find Toriel's snail obsession disturbing.

Frisk spent a decent amount of time in her room, playing with her toys and drawing. She felt as though she could truly act her age, rather than having to fend for her own rights and do things for herself all the time.

Eventually, Toriel trusted Frisk enough to explore the Ruins on her own. She was terrified at first but, after befriending all the monsters, she became very comfortable walking around. Sometimes, she would hang out with a ghost named Napstablook who used to come down to the Ruins to be alone. She learnt every puzzle in the Ruins off by heart, having found enjoyment in solving them.

Often, she would participate in the Spider Bake sale, buying enough pastries to have a small picnic with her friends. Once in a while, she would help Toriel tend to the buttercup field back in the very first cavern. She asked Toriel why it was so important but she received no straight answer, simply being told that it was a special place for her.

Toriel would occasionally disappear into the basement. She forbid Frisk from going down there but, since her curiosity was intense; she wandered down there one day. She found out that she had been talking to someone on the other side of the door. Toriel panicked when the human caught her, ushering her back upstairs and firmly telling her to never go down there again.

Needless to say, Frisk was still very much frightened of Flowey. Sometimes, she swore she had seen him out of the corner of her eyes, watching her. Since he always disappeared before she could get a good look at him, she quickly forgot about each incident.

Frisk was not sure exactly how long she had been living in the Ruins for. The only indication of time she had was a clock in living room and the sky in the holes of the cavern ceiling. According to Toriel, roughly three months had passed since she began living with her which was a long time in the young girl's eyes.

One day, Toriel trusted Frisk to go and water the buttercup flowers on her own. Frisk delighted in doing so, skipping off immediately after grabbing the watering can. She made her way through the winding catacombs, greeting various monsters along the way. She hummed cheerfully as she walked but the further she went on, the less cheery her singing became.

Soon, she began humming to ward off the eerie silence.

Something didn't feel right at all. The air about her was icier than normal and there were fewer monsters to be seen the deeper she went. The familiar halls of the Ruins were emitting a hostile, foreboding aura that made her skin crawl. She had a growing dread that something bad was going to happen.

But she had the determination to continue.

Finally, she made it to the chamber where the flowers were. They looked as golden as ever, gleaming in the beams of sunlight that streamed down from above. Frisk furrowed her brow once she noticed that one buttercup grew taller than the others. Slowly, it twisted around to face her.

She dropped her watering can with a clatter, water spilling out over the ground. She covered your mouth with your hands to keep herself from screaming as the flower began to chuckle. Knowing she was not strong enough to fight him, she turned on her heels and ran for the exit. Her heart beat faster with panic as vines sprouted from the ground, blocking the gate in a wall of twisted thorns.

She was trapped.

Shakily, you turned to face the flower.

"Howdy! Miss me?" he purred. She shook her head which provoked him to let out another maniacal laugh. "Idiot, I can't believe you've stayed here this whole time. Don't you have better things to do?" She shook your head again which only seemed to annoy the flower.

"Use your words, you aren't mute," he snapped, shuffling his petals as he spoke. "Anyway, don't you wonder what's beyond that basement? Don't you ever wonder who that old hag has been talking to?"

"Yes... but she told me to s-stay away from all that," you replied meekly, pulling her hands up to her chest to grab a bundle of wool. She began to tremble, wondering if he was going to attack her like last time.

"Last time you wasted not a single moment in leaving the Ruins," he went on. Confusion dashed across her features. There had not been a 'last time'. Flowey caught her confusion, looking even more annoyed than before. "I've been watching you, as you know. You really aren't the girl you were before."

"You were more fun before. That was until you began to question your actions of course. If only-" Frisk cut him off, completely incapable of understanding the nonsense he was going on with.

"Stop lying." she said firmly. "I've never been here before." Flowey was fuming by this point, his face switching to one with socket less eyes and a fang filled mouth. His petals swished violently about him.

"Quit interrupting me!" he screeched. "If you'd listen to me you might learn something." Frisk quietened down, not making a single peep as he continued to speak. He folded his leaves over themselves as if folding his arms. His face returned to its normal facade. "This is a separate timeline – a brand new one, right after a true reset. This is why you don't remember in detail what happened in the past."

"Surely you've been having visions of past timelines?" Frisk nodded hesitantly and he continued. She had wanted answers surrounding those strange visions but she did not fully understand what the flower was talking about.

"Though from your actions, I can tell you haven't remembered anything important yet. Good, that keeps you nice and naive for the time being." He grows a few inches taller, moving his face closer to hers. She was paralysed with fear so all she could do was shake like a leaf. "That hag, doesn't everything she says sound familiar?"

"At…first?" you replied truthfully.

"I can see that you need more motivation, more determination," he muttered under his breath before meeting Frisk's eyes. "You shouldn't be so nicey-nice to all the monsters here. They're merely waiting for the perfect time to subdue you and deliver you to the king. Trust me, I saw that one too. I like to call that timeline 'Underfell.'" He chuckled at his in-joke.

Frisk shook her head as he spoke, dumbstruck. The monsters were her friends, she believed, they would never do something to ghastly. Despite this, a cold chill ran down Frisk's spine, bringing up an uncertainty in the back of her mind.  
[He's right, you know]

Spoke that voice again. It had been quite some time since Frisk had heard it, so she was a little surprised at first. However, she kept her focus on Flowey, tears misting up her eyes.

"Oh don't be a baby," he snapped, now hovering a mere inch from her face. To her surprise, he actually smelled quite pleasant despite how wretched he was. She resisted the urge to smell him more as he continued to ridicule her. "So what if you're their 'friend'? You have to leave or the last reset would have been a complete waste."

Frisk shook her head again, still completely perplexed. He copied her motion mockingly.

He moved away, resting his head on one of his leaves. "You need an incentive," he muttered, mostly to himself. He sat in deep thought for a few moments before flashing a yellow-toothed smile at her. "I got it. A traditional method should kick you off," he snorted. "Kids can't stay sweet and innocent forever." Frisk did not even know how to react by this point – she simply stared at him with fear, dread at the thought of what that 'traditional method' would be.

He slowly began to withdraw into the ground as he made his exit. "See you soon," he drawled. And, after a cackle of laughter, he disappeared without a trace.

Frisk waited for a few moments, just to see if he was really gone, before letting go of the breath she had been holding. Still shaking from her encounter, she picked up Toriel's watering can and briskly made her way away from the buttercup patch. She was relieved to see that the exit was now unblocked. All she could hear in her mind was Flowey's laughter, echoing over and over again.

Soon, she broke out into a run, wanting nothing more than to hide away in Toriel's embrace.

Why was she so scared? He had barely done anything. Perhaps it was that awful aura he let off? You had no idea as of yet.

She slammed the cottage door behind her, dropping the empty watering can by the door. She ran into the living room, catching the scent of snail pie on the air. She entered the kitchen, and Toriel turned to her immediately. Toriel smiled for a moment until she saw Frisk's expression. Concerned, she abandoned whatever she was doing to tend to her.

"My child, what happened?" She asked. "You look terrified." Without a word, Frisk ran up to her and hugged her legs tightly, sniffling as she held back tears. Silently, the friendly monster scooped her up into her arms, hugging her firmly. Frisk nuzzled into her shoulder as she gently stroked her hair.

"Were you attacked?" She whispered.

Frisk nodded, telling her that she had run into that flower again and he confused her with complicated nonsense. Toriel seemed angry for a few moments, vehemently muttering something under her breath as she set Frisk down. Frisk wanted her to hold her for a bit longer but she did not complain.

"Do not listen to that vile creature. Everything that leaves his mouth is nonsense, do you understand me?"

Frisk nodded in agreement, sniffing back some snot as you rubbed the remaining tears from her eyes. "There, there. How about you read a book before lunch to take your mind off things?"

Frisk decided to do as she was told and headed to her room. She picked up a book she was still in the process of reading, opening to where she last read. She could not understand many of the words but she enjoyed what she could read. She tried for a good half hour to distract herself but she found she were incapable of doing so. The material was not catching her today – her mind was elsewhere.

What did Flowey mean by 'timelines?' What was that traditional method, that inciting incident he was going on about?

[Wouldn't you like to know?]

Frisk perked up at the sound of that voice again, having actually paid mind to its statements. She furrowed her brow for a couple moments, wondering if it would be right to reply to the voice in her head – it seemed pretty sinister. The more she thought about discovering the answers, the more her curiosity consumed her.

[Well, there are many paths you can take, all depending on what your motive is.]  
[Right now, you don't have a motive. So if I were you, I would probably just let the flower do what he wants. He's trying to…]  
The voice snickered for a couple moments, as if enjoying some sort of joke only it could understand.  
[Help you.]

Frisk pulled the soft fabric of her blanket around her shoulders for security as the thought of her response. She did not want to let Flowey to whatever he wished – he was evil, she knew that much. Therefore, nothing good could become of his actions. She shook her head.

[Crybaby.] It mocked condescendingly. [Don't worry. The memories should come flooding back soon. You'll remember why you're really here.]

With that, the voice disappeared from Frisk's conscience, leaving her even more confused. She drew her blanket closer around her, letting go of a shuddering breath. She tried to relax, telling herself to just forget the events of the day. She heard Toriel call to her from the living room, letting her know that the snail pie was ready. Pulling herself from safety of her cacoon, Frisk headed towards the living room.

Frisk had nightmares that night.

One would have expected them to be a fault of her experience with Flowey earlier that day. But, oddly enough, the dreams she had were not plagued with that atrocious plant, but with visions of herself. They reminded her of the images she had frequently seen during her first few weeks in the Underground, yet these were not as tame and innocent as those ones.

Each nightmare consisted of a twisted, vacant smile plastered upon her face. In each dream, she was forced to watch herself wander throughout the empty Underground. There were no monsters to be seen at all. Dust coated each and every surface in various thicknesses. The same dust coated her hands, clothes and face.

Every once in a while, the girl would emit a low, cheery chuckle, as if pleased with the fact that she was the last one left. She brandished a dusty knife in her left hand with graceful efficiency, as if lashing out at invisible demons.

The Underground being so void of life evoked a sense of dread to pool in the pits of her soul, tugging at the corners of her mind as if searching for some kind of memory. That pull grew stronger and stronger, yet its attempts were fruitless.

Frisk awoke bathed in her sweat. For a few moments, she thought she was being strangled, her body being wrapped in something constricting. She soon realised that it was the covers of her bed. She breathed a sigh of relief as she unwrapped herself from her bonds.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall, watching as the second hand ticked past the twelve. It was late in the night, she should be sleeping but after all those disturbing dreams, there was no way she was going to be able to close her eyes again so soon.

Slipping out of bed, she steadied herself on her wobbling knees. Her feet tapped against the floorboards, echoing throughout the silent house. All the lights had been turned off, throwing the cottage into pitch-blackness. Luckily, Frisk knew her way around like the back of her hand.

Without making any conscious effort, she found herself in Toriel's room.

Since her eyes were used to the darkness, she was able to get a decent look at the surroundings. She had only been in here a couple times before since she felt guilty for invading. This time, however, she was too anxious to care.  
She wandered towards Toriel's sleeping form, watching the purple blanket that was draped over her rise and fall. Frisk stood there for a few moments, watching as Toriel shuffled in her sleep, turning around to face her. The human contemplated calling out to Toriel and waking her up. She thought that if she were awake, she would be able to hold her and comfort her after Frisk's nightmare.

She wanted to, yet she hesitated, remembering how her mother and father back on the surface would berate her for waking them so late in the night.

But Toriel was not like them, she was the epiphany of kindness when it came to Frisk.

"M-mom?" Frisk managed to stutter in a loud whisper. Toriel scrunched up her snout in reaction but did not move anymore. The human waited a few more nervous moments before calling out again, this time managing to stir her from her sleep. She stared blankly outwards for a moment, before finally recognising the features of the human standing before her.

"What is it, dear?" she asked softly with a voice thick with weariness. Frisk shuffled awkwardly where she stood before telling her about the nightmare she had. Toriel looked at her with a grave expression, looking deeply disturbed for a moment. She soon adjusted herself though, once Frisk took a step backwards out of intimidation.

"Come, you shall sleep away the rest of the night in my bed," she said, shuffling backwards a little to allow some room for Frisk. The girl glanced to the goat to the bed and back again, giving her a nervous glance. "It's okay; I will protect you from those awful nightmares." Frisk nodded slowly before clambering under the sheets with her. Toriel hugged her close – tightly, but not so much so that it was uncomfortable. Frisk blushed at the contact, no being used to that kind of thing.

But, being held by Toriel's warm, fuzzy form relaxed Frisk immensely. Soon enough, she was hushed back to sleep, feeling safer than ever.

Toriel's paws trembled slightly as she held the small human's body. If she closed her eyes, it was almost like she was holding her again. In fact, this human looked rather similar to her. Of course, she was very different in personality and it was degrading to consider all humans as being the same, she reminded herself.

But just for a few moments, she imagined that she was holding her late daughter in her arms.


	5. Shifts

That morning, Frisk awoke bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

She was surprised at first to be wrapped up in Toriel's arms but she was quick to recall the situation. She shuddered involuntarily at the memory of her nightmares before she contemplated getting up. Frisk did not want to disturb Toriel, but her grip on her was a little suffocating. Cautiously, Frisk pulled away, stumbling out of the goat monster's large bed.

Frisk froze up once she heard Toriel mutter a name under her breath. She was not able to catch it fully, but the utterance of it was enough to send a chill running down her spine. "…where are you going?" She continued sleepily. Frisk waited a few moments, wondering if she was going to wake. She did not.

The human glanced at the clock, seeing that it was now five o'clock in the morning, long before Toriel normally woke. But, since Frisk was wide awake now, she thought it would be a good time to creep around the goat's room while she had the chance.

She felt a little guilty doing so but she was already there. Curiosity led her in her sneaky exploration. She scanned the dim room, eyes settling upon her desk. She knew that Toriel kept a diary – she mentioned it once. Padding over to the desk, she poured over the diary that she had kept open.

As usual, Frisk saw a number of terrible puns mixed in with gushy descriptions of all the cute things Frisk had done. Toriel was always a sucker for puns – Frisk was on the receiving end of them constantly. But, if she read in between the lines, in small writing, she could read things such as 'I wonder if we'll ever meet' and 'maybe we'll be more than…? No that's preposterous.' As usual, you didn't know what those phrases referred to.

Frisk snapped her gaze towards the large bookshelf in the room. Books of various size, shapes and colours packed the shelves, giving the impression that they were about to burst from their positions. She trailed her eyes to the very top of the shelving unit, unable to see anything but petals of buttercups.

It could not hurt right? She hesitated though, getting the feeling that she really should not be looking up there. She figured just a peek should be okay. It's not like anything dangerous was up there, right?

She used Toriel's chair (Chariel) to give herself a boost. She stood on her tippy toes, straining her limbs as she felt around the dusty surface. Finally, her fingers brushed against what she believed were a pile of books. She attempted to pull them all down carefully, but alas, she ended up making a wrong move.

The books toppled down on top of her head, prompting her to fall off the chair and onto the floor. She groaned loudly as pain spiked in various points throughout her body. She was just about to pick up herself and the books when she realised that Toriel's gaze was set upon her. She felt like a villain being caught by the cops. As if on instinct, she stuck out her foot and kicked one of the books under the bookshelf for safekeeping.

"What are you doing?" Toriel grumbled, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she pushed herself out of bed. "Those books are up there for a reason, small one."

Frisk quickly uttered an apology as she began to clean up the books. Toriel sighed in resignation before forcing a smile and taking the books away from her.

"Remember, curiosity killed the human," she said. Frisk's heart fell through her gut at that phrase, a chill momentarily numbing her entire body. Toriel noticed her reaction and quickly apologised for the harsh statement. Guilt and sorrow came to her copper eyes. "It's true my child, as morbid as it sounds. So please, exercise caution."

For once, Toriel's words failed to comfort Frisk.

Frisk went for a stroll around the Ruins that afternoon with Napstablook. Since neither was much for conversation, they simply enjoyed each other's presence. They were currently lying on the pile of crumpled brown and gold leaves in the corridor near the where the Spider Bakesale was held.

Frisk took a bite of her spider donut, pulling a face at the strange taste as always. It tasted sweet like cotton candy, and melted on the tongue. It was slightly gooey and sticky for reasons Frisk could never figure out. Perhaps it was because they were made from spider silk? Repulsed, she quickly finished it off.

She stared at the cracked ceiling above. It looked like it was about to collapse at any moment and smother Napstablook and her in debris. The ghost would be fine of course since he was corporeal but Frisk on the other hand…

[That would be fun.]

"Hey," began Napstablook all of a sudden in that distance, hollow voice of his. He stared at the human vacantly; concerned that he had interrupted her thoughts. Frisk tilted her head towards him and nodded for him to continue speaking. "There…have been fewer monsters around today."

Frisk considered his words, looking about her for a few moments. He was right. Barely any monsters crossed them during their walk earlier that day. Worry crept to her senses as she thought of what could have become of them. She hoped that they all just went sight-seeing in the crumbling city in the heart of the Ruins or something.

"…Lots of dust too," added Napstablook. "I hope Toriel isn't too preoccupied with cleaning it all up."

Frisk scrambled to her feet, her heart racing through her chest in fear. She recalled her nightmares from last night, fleeting images of them flashing through her mind. This could not be happening. She was about to run off into the rest of the Ruins when she heard Napstablook's voice again.

"Oh, sorry," he hastily apologised, feeling guilty for frightening her. "…I saw a small group of them head into the city. They were…probably just doing some exploring of the old capital." He tried his best to console her, despite how difficult he found that task to be. Frisk hesitantly turned back to him, torn between her trust in Napstablook and her dread.

"Toriel hasn't cleaned in a while either so that would explain the dust," he went on. "I would help out but…" He looked down at his ghostly form with a heavy, resigned sigh. Frisk pursed her lips together and returned to her position beside him.

She prayed to a higher power that the ghost was right.

Frisk said goodbye to Napstablook not long later before walking back home. She waved to every monster she saw along the way, trying her best to ignore the fact that there were fewer of them around as she hummed to herself.

As she sang, she heard a vague voice at the back her head hum along with her. Frisk went along with it, since it gave her the impression of more company. However, she fell silent after a while since the voice's humming became a little eerie and out of tune.

By that point, she had made it back to Toriel's home safe and sound.

Well, at least she thought she was safe.

A cackle from the gnarled tree in the courtyard was quick to tell her otherwise.

His petals swayed back and forth as he bounced cheerily, as if dancing to some sort of tune. His expression was sickly sweet as he locked eyes with Frisk, his grin growing as he chuckled once more. The girl backed away, that familiar fear washing over her senses. Immediately, she opened her mouth, about to shout for Toriel.

"Don't bother. Hurting you right now wouldn't be worth it," he told her. "And that hag won't be able to do much anyway," he added vehemently. Frisk tensed slightly at his words, still keeping a watchful gaze on him. Just what kind of nonsense was he going to go on about this time? She folded her arms over her chest defensively.

"So I have been thinking lately – thought that maybe killing you and making you float around in the void for a bit would be a little silly," he went on, that familiar sly, mischievous look overtaking his beady black eyes. "I mean, that's no fun is it? I want to see the exact moment in which you remember everything you've done."

Frisk just stood there and let him speak, knowing full well she wouldn't understand a word of it. She could feel that voice in her mind listening in though, pulling harder on her conscience, brimming with an almost mocking curiosity.

"So you and I," he snorted unattractively, "have a little date."

[How charming…] The voice in Frisk's head drawled sarcastically. She noticed Flowey's expression flicker right after the voice had spoken a look of haunting recognition in his eyes. His face split apart in a drooping, fang-filled grin.

"There's a little something on your soul," he noted. Self-consciously, Frisk glanced down at her chest, noticing that her soul was now hovering outside it. She examined it for a few moments, but found nothing. She stared at Flowey quizzically. His expression grew almost euphoric as he uttered something under his breath.

"Midnight tomorrow," he organised with a glimmer of evil in his eyes. "You'll be there, even if you don't want to."

Frisk flinched at his words, wondering if she really did not have a choice in the matter. She regarded the flower with a touch less fear than before, determination washing over the worry in her heart. She did need more answers from him and, as always, curiosity led her to do foolish things.

As he gave a final chuckle and disappeared into the earth, she decided that she would, indeed, go on a 'date' with him.

Once Frisk returned home, she found that Toriel had fallen asleep in her reading chair. Her glasses were teetering dangerously off her snout as her body shuddered with the occasional snore. The human trotted over, gingerly taking the glasses off her nose and placing them on the mantle of the fireplace. Scooping up the gardening book that had slid off her lap, she placed it beside the glasses.

Hit with a sudden craving for chocolate, she plodded into the kitchen. Throwing open the fridge, she reached all the way into its icy embrace, her fingers latching onto the crinkly wrapping of a chocolate bar. She drew it out and dug into it immediately, her mood improving right away. The voice giggled like a child as the chocolate melted on Frisk's tongue. Frisk wondered if she should eat more chocolate to placate the evil voice.

She happily munched as she stared around the kitchen, taking in the familiar sights. The scent of cinnamon, butterscotch and flowers always lingered here. Frisk had actually begun to smell like that herself, not that she minded of course. Her thoughts filled with the thought of playing in a field of flowers (ones that were not evil, of course).

Unfortunately, that lovely train of thought was interrupted as her eyes landed on the gleaming blade beside her. Instantaneously, her mind went blank as she glued her gaze to the knife, somehow finding herself unable to look away. She heard the voice in the back of her mind sigh wistfully.

Frisk took concern in the fact that Toriel had not put the knife back yet. Whenever she used sharp implements, she would always replace them in shelves much too high for Frisk to reach. She wanted to put the knife away as the thought of being so close to it any longer unnerved her, yet she found herself incapable of doing so.

[Shush] The voice 'comforted'. [I'm sure mom will put it away when she wakes. But for now…what are you going to do?]

_What are you going to do?_ That question reverberated in her mind as a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. Frisk's heart pattered faster in her chest as she continued to admire its cruel edge. Within her, a deep yearning to clutch its wooden handle and swing it around a few times came to her attention.

"Mom…says not to play w…with knives," Frisk said, forcing the words out slowly to remind herself. The voice sneered condescendingly at her reaction before slinking away into unseen corners of her mind. With that, Frisk was finally able to tear her eyes away from the knife and leave the kitchen behind her.

She spent the rest of the day playing with the stuffed animals in her room, hugging their fluffy, squidgy bodies close, their embrace finally soothing her nervous heart.


	6. A Story

Frisk found herself standing in Toriel's room again that night, simply staring at her sleeping form.

She listened intently to her snores, an indescribable feeling brewing within her. For lack of a better word, it was _sinister_. She finally tore her eyes away however, after remembering why she had come in here in the first place. Yesterday, she had kicked a book under the bookshelf. Being the curious girl she was she began to wonder just what was written on its pages. She kneeled down, reaching underneath the shelf, pushing aside some dust bunnies.

Finding the book, she yanked it out as quietly as possible before tip-toeing out of the room. The voice's presence grew in her mind as she made it down the hall towards her room, as if it were also curious about the contents of the book.

Once in her bedroom, an excited anticipation filled her core as Frisk moved her lamp over to her bed, its cord stretching taut. She crawled beneath her covers, pulling them up and over her head. She switched on the lamp, making her mound of sheets glow. She set the big, dusty novel before her, scanning its title.

'Is There Happiness In Hell?" It read.

The voice in her mind swore belligerently. [Wrong book.]

Frisk ignored it as she flipped open the hard cover, revealing smudged, yellowed pages beyond. The voice groaned angrily as it withdrew its presence slightly, muttering other phrases and sentences that the human continued to ignore. She was not the best at reading, she was only seven years old after all, but she could make out the gist of things. Slowly, she fell into the story of the book, becoming more and more interested in what the author had to say. She soon finished the first chapter.

Then the second.

And the third and onwards.

She had never read something so absorbing yet emotionally strenuous at the same time. There were many words she did not understand such as 'genocide' and 'obliterate.' But she had a feeling, from the context they were used in, they were not nice words. Apparently, the book was written just after the War. That explains how tattered the leather covers were and why many of the pages were terribly moth eaten or obscured to the point where she could not read them.

The author of the book was, of course, a monster. He was just a regular old monster; he made an effort of pointing out, nothing special or interesting about him. Throughout the early chapters, he explained how the War came to be and just how terrible the proceedings were. From what Frisk had been told, humans were on the verge of defeat as they locked away the last monster into the Underground.

But, according to the book, the humans had easily overpowered them. Frisk felt like she had been lied to her entire life.

He wrote about the times right after the monsters were trapped beneath Mt. Ebott. There was an extremely high rate of depression and suicides amongst monsters. Frisk didn't know what depression and suicide was but from what she gathered, depression was deep sadness and suicide was the act of killing oneself. She realised that those were two things she was very aware of back on the surface. She had been depressed before and, admittedly, she had thought of dying a couple times.

She shuddered.

As the story went on, the monster explained how he dreamed of one day utilising the human's powers against them – their power of Determination. Frisk was confused by this – determination was a power? She had always thought it was just a feeling. She clutched at her chest for a moment, wondering if she, too, could turn her determination into a super power.

Eventually, the monster's writings became more frantic and much less eloquent. Towards the end of the book, Frisk could barely comprehend what nonsense he was going on about. But, from what she did gather – things were not going well at all in the Underground. There were lots of civil wars, violence, death and despair. Her heart tightened as she flipped to the very last page of the book, reading the last visible sentence on the page (the rest were obscured by the yellowed, mouldy surface of the page):

'I can't live here anymore; not in a world without sunlight, stars and happiness.'

A red blotches bled into the page below, inking the entire bottom half of the page. Frisk could have sworn it smelt like rusty copper still. She tried her best not to think about how all that blood got there but the Voice had already whispered the answer to her.

By this point, she realised that tears had been softly falling from her cheeks for the past few minutes. A few dropped onto that final sentence as she stared at it, emotions she had never felt before stirring within her. She was not able to distinguish a single one of them, leaving her hurt and confused. She closed the book, not wanting to look at it ever again.

She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, letting a few more tears leak from her eyes.

It was the voice that interrupted her and finally pulled her away from her dark thoughts.

[Humans are horrible things aren't they?]

Frisk found that she was unable to disagree with the voice this time around. It was right – so right. Frisk had always been away of the darkness and sin associated with the human race; saw it first hand in the people around her. She strived to do the right thing, to not fall into the same wicked traps as they had. And so far, she thought she was doing okay.

[If you were given the power to make your revenge…would you?]

The question was straight to the point, leaving no space for any lies, manipulation or mystery. Fundamentally, it was a yes or no question. Frisk thought for a while, finding that the answer did not come so easily to her. The voice waited patiently for her reply.

Frankly, she hated fighting. She hated very few things in the world and that was one of them. Despite how much humanity daunted and hurt her, she simply could not find it in herself to injure them in return – it did not settle within her. Even if she were getting revenge on her parents for all the pain they had caused her, injuring them or worse still did not bode well.

"No," she answered finally. "It wouldn't be right."

The voice shuddered in shock for a few moments before letting loose a peel of mocking laughter. [Just like always, huh? Guess things will never go smoothly.] As soon as it had finished speaking, it began to recede again. But this time, Frisk had something to ask it.

"Are the monsters happy here, now?" she asked out of the blue. "Toriel and the other monsters in the Ruins seem pretty okay with their lives."

The voice answered right away, accusing her. [Are you blind? Look, it doesn't matter. They're monsters. Why should you care for them anyway? Why should you care for anyone?] The voice was filled with malice and hatred, directed to not only humans this time, but everything. Frisk wondered why the voice was so filled with hate. It caught her train of thought, snorting in laughter.

[I have every reason to and so do you. We're not so different, you and I. You'll realise that sooner rather than later.] The voice was quick to slip away, as to avoid being asked any more questions by a puzzled Frisk. The girl sat there in silence for a few moments, her hands shaking from the overload of emotion.

She lay back on her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut.

She did not sleep that night; she merely lay wondered if the monsters would be happy on the surface.

Frisk literally fell out of bed that morning. Grey bags hung under her eyes, a factor of a serious lack of sleep. A weary hush fell over her entire body yet she knew it was not the time to sleep now. She hoped that she would be able to get a better sleep later that day. As she began to get dressed into her regular attire, she remembered Flowey's words the day before. Concern ran through her as she wondered just what he had in mind.

Her mind then fell to the memories of that book from last night, a dark, grave tone seeping into her mind. She recalled her conversation with the voice and the replies she had made. Still, her answers stood sturdy. She was snapped from her thoughts by Toriel calling her to breakfast.

Toriel had made toast this morning, topped with margarine and honey. On the side was a fruit salad with a relish of whipped cream. Frisk's mouth watered hungrily at the sight of it. She sat down to eat without a word.

Soon enough though, her mind wandered back to that book. No wonder Toriel kept it so out of the way. Why would she even own a book like that anyway? Whatever, that was not what was important here.

She glanced up at Toriel, watching as she chewed a square of watermelon. She looked deep into those ruddy red eyes of hers, trying to make sense of the emotion within them. She noticed that there general cheeriness and softness was there but Frisk gazed deeper. Behind that kindness, she saw that there was a hint of desolation and sorrow.

Frisk wondered why she had never noticed it before – it was pretty obvious now that she had made note of it.

"Are you alright?" asked Toriel, having noticed Frisk's gaze. Frisk felt like she had heard that phrase a lot lately. She smiled meekly at her in response though Frisk could tell from Toriel's furrowed brow that she was not buying it. "You have this look in your eyes…like you've seen something ghastly." Frisk shook her head, losing the small smile from her lips. Well, Frisk might as well ask her.

"Do monsters…like living down here?" Frisk asked softly, worried that she would anger her again. She seemed taken aback by her question, her eyes widening. Toriel thought for a few moments before answering, that solemness in her eyes becoming less subtle.

"Do you like it down here?" She asked, surprising Frisk this time. She nodded, of course she did. Even with an evil flower and a suspicious voice in the back of her mind, living down here with the monsters was much better than living with her parents on the surface. She clutched self-consciously at a scar on her forearm.

"See? It is not so bad. If you can like it here than so can I," she replied. There was a vague, wistful look in her eyes. Frisk watched her eat for another few moments before asking something slightly different. She twiddled her thumbs nervously under the table as she spoke.

"Do you want to see the sky?" Frisk questioned her. She remembered in that book that many of the monsters merely wished to see the sky once more before they perished. "Do you want to see the surface?" she added in a quieter tone. Toriel looked at Frisk with concern in her eyes for a moment, worried that she was going to do something rash.

"Of course, all monsters do," she finally admitted. Frisk took a bite out of her toast, chewing thoughtfully.

She decided to ask all the monsters in the Ruins about it today, just to see if they felt the same way. She was not sure what she would do with that information – she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

"Frisk," Toriel whispered. She had never called her by name before so she snapped her gaze towards Toriel in astonishment. "Do not try to free us, it is too dangerous. There is no way for you to escape the Underground unscathed, let alone bring the rest of us with you."

She sounded grave, entirely serious to a degree where Frisk knew that there would be no arguing with her. She nodded slowly, though she was upset that she had been forbidden to help everyone.

Frisk did not know why but she felt like she was obligated to help them.

Once she realised this, the feeling broke through her worries like a hammer to glass, bringing along with it a great sense of determination. This idea, this thought of helping the monsters – even though she just thought of it, she felt like it had been a goal of hers since forever.

[As always so predictable.]


	7. Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is violence and a little gore in this chapter, just a warning. It's also pretty long.

After breakfast, Frisk asked every monster in the Ruins if they would like to see the surface. Every monster gave varied, vague responses of 'yes' except for Napstablook who nodded slightly before muttering something about him not being good enough for the surface. Frisk assured him that he was and attempted to hug him to comfort him.

However, each monster made note of it being impossible before shuffling away. Frisk, after speaking to each monster, felt a strengthening of the determination within her. It could not be _that_ hard to free them from this place right? There were cracks in the ceiling they could probably climb through. Frisk wondered why they had not done so already. She soon dismissed that idea when the Voice told her, rather rudely, that there was a Barrier she had to break in order to free anyone, including herself. This put a damper on Frisk's spirits a little but she remained determined nonetheless.

Throughout her escapades in the Ruins, she did notice that there were even fewer monsters today. Again, this concerned her. She tried to assure herself by remembering what Napstablook had told her but, this time around, that thought only made her more uneasy.

She decided to tell Toriel about it upon her return – maybe she knew about all this?

Frisk sure hoped so.

Her foot scuffed through a small clump of dust as she headed through the familiar caverns, her worrying never ceasing as she briskly made her way back home. Glancing here and there, she noticed that there were a number of thin vines draped here and there – more than normal.

She tried to ignore this, she really did.

[But you know what's going on here, don't you?]

With a lurch, Frisk broke out into a sprint, her breath already escaping from her in shallow, hurried puffs. Her boots tapped on the stone floors of the caverns and passages, reverberating throughout the entirety of the space around her. She wondered why she had not addressed this issue earlier – she knew something was up.

What if she was too late?

She skidded into the courtyard in front of her home, dodging the tree in the centre. Autumn leaves were kicked up at her heels as she leapt the rest of the way to the front door. She wasted no time in wrenching the door open and running inside.

She called Toriel's name breathlessly, her tone filled with panic. Hyperventilating now, she soon found herself in Toriel's embrace as she tried her best to soothe her anxiety. Frisk shuddered, on the brink of tears as she explained the situation to her adoptive mother. She felt the goat monster tense as she gingerly pushed Frisk away from her.

Frisk looked up, only to meet copper eyes drenched in rage. She had never seen Toriel so furious before. She stumbled backwards a little at the ferocity, wondering if she was going to turn on her. Toriel's posture changed into one of a lioness about to strike as she flexed her muscles.

"My child," she said sternly, fighting hard to keep the calmness in her tone. "Go to your room and stay there until I return. I will sort out this issue." Toriel watched the little girl nod vigorously and run off to her room, listening to the click of the door as it closed.

_That flower_ , she thought, _I never thought it would inflict this much harm upon the Ruins. I thought that, when she brought him up, that he was just a regular old jerk. But clearly, I was mistaken. I should have acted when I started seeing a decrease in monster numbers._

She let go of a heavy sigh as regret and guilt washed over her in waves. She opened and closed the front door behind her, uttering a prayer for Frisk's safety. She turned back to the mission at hand. She knew where the flower was likely to be, heading off straight away in that direction, flexing her fists as she did so. Flames began to lick at her wrists.

She would protect the Ruins, no matter what happened to her.

After all, this place was her home – she was friends with the monsters here (even though they were scared of her). This was the place that housed the human, her adopted daughter. She could not deprive her of her peace.

In the distance, she heard a high-pitched peal of gleeful laughter.

Frisk was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her red quilt drooping over her shoulders. She clutched a teddy bear close to her chest, her ochre eyes gazing at the pages of the book in front of her. She forced herself to read the words; loose herself in the immersive story as to distract herself from what was going on about her.

She wanted to help Toriel, her mother, sure. But she was far too weak to fight against Flowey – someone who had bested her with a few petals. She did not know how strong Toriel was, but from the way the monsters talked and acted around her, she assumed that she was respected and feared amongst them.

She hoped and prayed from the bottom of her soul that she would come out of this alive – Frisk had already lost so many of the monsters in the Ruins, she did not want to lose Toriel too. She briefly thought of the conversations she used to have with the Froggits, who she had not seen for days now.

Flipping over to the next page, she lazily skimmed over the words, forgetting what the context of the conversation was. It was then that she recalled what Flowey had proposed to her the day before, about that 'date.' Her skin crawled at the thought of facing him after what he had done. She realised that she had automatically assumed that it was him that had killed everyone, her anger waning for a moment.

She reaffirmed it by reminding herself that there was no other monster in the Ruins capable of doing something so dastardly.

Glancing up at the clock on her wall, she saw that it was a quarter to midnight. Toriel still had not returned and it had been a good several hours since she left. Being the patient person she was when it came to Toriel, she had obediently waited in her room the entire time.

[Stop trying to be so naïve. You should have gone to investigate hours ago.]

The voice was right. Frisk wondered why she was still sitting here. She should not have trusted that flower to not harm Toriel – he was evil. She glanced at the clock again, deciding that it was probably best to go and find her. The worry she had been supressing through those several hours bubbled up inside of her more violently than ever.

She felt sick to the stomach. Fear froze her nerves as she thought of confronting Flowey. Honestly, he had only shown true hostility to her once and that was months ago. Now, it was not entirely his power that scared Frisk, but the feeling he gave off. The air about him was always dead and silent, holding within itself a mischievous malice that held untold mystery.

It was almost like he did not have a soul.

Once Frisk noticed that, she felt as though she was right, that the flower really did not have a soul. She shuddered violently at the thought.

Thinking of Toriel once more, she took a deep breath and gathered what was left of her determination. She let in fester within her as she recalled all those piles of dust she had seen lying about, thinking of what Flowey may have done to them.

That determination strengthened, allowing her to pull herself out of bed and out of the house.

The air in the courtyard was quieter than usual, stagnant. The only sound was the steady crunch of Frisk's boots in the leaves, mixed with her heavy breathing. As she passed by the twisted, black oak in the centre, she scooped up a fallen branch, choosing it as her weapon. She was not planning on doing much with it other than use it as a brace or shield though.

She knew exactly where to go, as always. She traipsed briskly, at a half-run through the Ruins, dust flying about at her feet as she walked, clinging to her clothes. Her mind produced memories of the nightmares she had, of those desolate halls, the impenetrable loneliness, the slowly building insanity of being trapped in a place filled with death.

Dread coalesced in Frisk's heart as she increased her pace, her sweater rustling about her as she sped through the passageways. As she made her way towards that very first cavern, her heart froze at the realisation that she had not come across a single monster yet. There was nothing but vines and dust. Even the spiders who worked at the Spider Bakesale were smashed on the floor, tatters of their webs about them.

Finally, she tripped through the crumbling stone gates to the very cavern of flowerbeds she had fallen into three months ago.

Her mouth went dry, sweat pearling on her already clammy skin as she laid her eyes on the sight unfolding before her. Her hand clenched tighter around the stick as she gritted her teeth together, her eyes widening as far as they could go (not very). A tremble trailed down her spine, progressively filling her with horror.

Toriel's form was suspended in the air, sickly green, barbed vines securing her to the stalactites on the roof by her wrists. The walls and floor were scorched, showing signs of a struggle. The room smelt like rusty copper and overly sour lemons, stinging Frisk's nose. Blood pooled from various gashes in Toriel's staining fur, dripping into a small pool at her feet. Her face was contorted in a grimace, glaring at Flowey with intense hatred.

A familiar flower sprouted not far from her, eyeing Frisk with a wicked gaze.

That dreadful cackle filled the atmosphere, chilling the human to her very soul. Said soul timidly emerged from her chest, hovering as bravely as it could muster before her. A warm, red light glowed around it as it was filled with determination.

Determination to rescue Toriel.

But the question was, how?

Flowey's laughter finally ceased as he greeted Frisk with euphoria. "Howdy!" he chuckled. "Right on time for our 'date' it seems." The human paid no mind to the flower as she gazed helplessly at Toriel's bruised and battered form. A mumble of words flowed from Toriel's lips.

"I'm sorry, my child," she uttered, her gaze softening as it landed on her. "I had underestimated him, it seems." She laughed mirthlessly. That laughter was quickly silenced by a sudden tightening of Flowey's vines around her.

"Silence, cow," he snarled, his face twisting in annoyance. "It looks like me and Frisk have some things we need to discuss." Frisk's hands began to tremble as rage welled in her. She imagined beating the flower with the stick in her hand until it could bother her and her mother no more. The voice hummed approvingly. Frisk then realised what she was thinking and shook the thoughts from her mind – as villainous as he was, she could not quite bring herself to carry out her fantasies.

So she let the flower continue with his monologue as she wracked her brain for her next course of action.

"So, as you can see, I got impatient," he began. "I told you I'd create an inciting incident and this is it. So, what do you think? Murdering your friends and capturing your adoptive mother. It's a little clichéd but functional nonetheless." Frisk scowled at him which only succeeded in humouring him. "Except there's a twist, there's always a twist." His face disfigured steadily as he spoke, his face expanding much larger than his body, a massive grin of gnashing, rotted teeth and beady eyes glimmering with madness.

"You get to kill her."

Toriel pulled her eyes open in shock, glancing between the psychotic flower and Frisk. Her muzzle opened and closed as she tried to gather something coherent to say in response. She settled her gaze on the human, judging her reaction to all this before reacting herself.

Frisk was clearly incapable of comprehending what was going on. Her entire body was quaking now, tears building in the corner of her eyes. The stick had slid from her grip, falling with a hollow clatter to the cavern floor. Her soul quivered just as violently as she was, as if it were about to break.

It was then that the voice spoke up, after having been eerily silent for a time.

[Don't chicken out now. Listen to him, consider his words. Truly consider them. You said you wanted answers right? You want to know why this place feels so familiar, don't you.]

But she was not going to kill Toriel in search for that kind of knowledge. She shook her head slowly, prompting Flowey to tilt his head to the side slightly as he let on.

"That little something on your soul...," he mused. "I wonder what it is." He said this mostly to himself as his gaze turned slightly grave, his eyes burning into Frisk's soul. The voice chuckled again before Flowey let it be and kept talking.

"Whatever," he let go. "Anyway, I'm not giving you a choice. You will kill her. You have to remember your destiny, the purpose of your fall down here." Flowey knew that it may not necessarily work but it was his best bet and a lot more fun than all the other ways he thought up. Frisk, of course, was not convinced. She looked helplessly up at Toriel who glared down at her in defeat.

"Just…just run…Frisk," she said, tears welling in her eyes now. Frisk couldn't run – she was paralysed with fear.

[Search your mind, harder than ever. I'll even help out a little. Look at those wounds crisscrossing her body. Aren't they beautiful?]

Frisk felt a sudden weight in her hand, prompting her to glance down at her closed fist. Within it was the familiar wooden handle of the kitchen knife she had caught notice of earlier. Her breath hitched in her throat as she studied the blade in the dimness of the cavern. It felt so right holding it like this – as if it had been a faithful companion of hers for a very, very long time.

[That's it, remember.]

She shuddered and dragged her eyes up to peer once more at Toriel, at her wounds. They seeped blood in steady trickles that trailed in rivulets down her fur. They were beginning to clot at their sides, clinging to the dust that blanketed her fur in places.

At such a sight, a conflict came to Frisk's heart; part of her found it exciting, the other part found it horrific. She shook her head more violently, fighting against an accumulating desire within her.

"Go on, kill her!" shouted Flowey, growing impatient with Frisk's lack of movement. "Nothing's permanent, you could RESET again if you felt guilty about it," he added with mock in his tone. Frisk barely heard him or understood, that voice in her head was growing louder and louder, its control leaching through her veins.

She could feel the tug of memory in the back of her mind, as if she were pulling on the corners of a long-lost diary. Brief images flashed through her mind, a small number of them she managed to briefly see before they were lost.

She saw dust and blood along with the dead faces of monsters.

Her heart was beating so loudly and hastily that she could feel it's every beat vibrate throughout her entire being, hear it loud and clear in her ears. The knife weighed heavier in her hand, its blade craving the taste of blood.

Yet Frisk continued to fight. She took a step backwards; tearing her gaze away from Toriel's weakened form. She would not injure her mother, no matter what.

Flowey groaned loudly in annoyance as vines sprouted at Frisk's feet, cutting into her flesh. She called out in pain, watching as angry white lines appeared on her soul, indicating the damage it had taken. The vines entangled around her waist, lifting her into the air and pulling her closer to Toriel.

"Hurry up!" he snapped. "She doesn't even care for you! She just uses you to replace the children she's lost!" His words stung like needles, Frisk staring at Toriel for an answer. The woman was shocked at the flower's words, anger crossing her features.

"Frisk, do not listen to him, of course I care for you," she pleaded. There was sadness in her eyes, originating from old sorrows being brought up and the thought of Frisk getting the wrong impression of her.

[Haven't you ever noticed the memorabilia lying around? Pictures of other humans. Those toys, whose do you think they are? You're a replacement, merely something to help ease the pain of lose. Petty, isn't it.]

The voice's words were loud, echoing throughout Frisk's mind. She didn't believe them, fighting to rid the voice from her mind. But it refused, overpowering her in an instant.

"Kill her!" screeched Flowey once more, white bullets appearing in a circle around Frisk, threatening to end her life if she didn't do the same for Toriel. His vines tightened around her, pulling her closer and closer to Toriel.

Tears streamed down the goat woman's face as she locked gazes with Frisk. She had no clue what to do, how to escape this situation. She smiled at the girl and uttered an apology for not being strong enough to fight against the flower. Frisk almost forgave her.

[Trust me. You want to. It's not like you haven't done it before.] Almost against her will, Frisk raised the knife, holding it towards Toriel's heart. Tears streamed down her face as she fought and fought against Flowey, the voice and the gruesome images still flashing through her mind.

"Kill her!"

Flowey's face warped into many different awful faces. Stringy flesh dripped from his face, glowing orbs replacing his eyes. A smile was still carved into his face, black ooze dripping down his petals.

[Kill her.]

The voice was louder than ever, yet remained calm. Its sway over her was intense, the words affecting her every muscle, bone and cell. She was a puppet in its hands.

That was the last straw. A hard, steely barrier in her mind was broken apart, obliterated with a sudden onslaught of bloodlust and rage. It was so evil, so intense that Frisk almost didn't know what to do with it. Crimson light bled into her soul as she tightened her grip even harder around her knife.

With a single, practiced flick of the wrist, she buried the fang deep into Toriel's chest.

That bloodlust screamed in euphoria as blood spurted from the flesh wound, Toriel's soft, copper eyes widening in horror. She coughed violently, fresh crimson now dripping from her muzzle.

It was a sight Frisk had seen time and time again.

The memories flowed into the cavities of her mind like a flood. Time and time again, she had danced this dance of death. Time and time again, she had killed the goat monster she falsely claimed to be her mother. Over and over again, she murdered all the residents of the Ruins. Every other time, that flower had not been her enemy, but her _best friend_ , supporting her and helping her in her genocide.

That voice had been her voice, controlling her actions, giving her wisdom, telling her what her purpose was. The Underground was her training ground, a place to farm thousands upon thousands of LOVE before advancing across the barrier and onto the human race, slaughtering all those who had crossed her and more.

The memories played through her mind on a loop, each loop a new timeline. It scrolled past her mind like a reel of tape, so old, yet so familiar.

Forty times, she counted. Forty times she had killed. Sometimes, it was not everyone, just a select few. Other times, she would murder everyone in various horrible ways. Sometimes, she would torment them until they begged for the release of death.

She remembered that she could never quite do it, that some monster with a blue eye would always bring her down amongst lasers and bones. But this time, before this fall into the Underground, there had been a TRUE RESET, which erased everyone's memories of all that had happened.

It's not like it hadn't happened before. In fact, this was the seventh TRUE RESET. But this time was meant to be different:

This was the time she was finally going to break the barrier and murder all of human kind.

Her vision finally cleared, the reel of memories fading back into the crevices of her mind. Tears still scrolled down her dirty cheeks as the vines around her waist slowly set her down. Toriel's body was released much more violently, being thrown into the buttercup patch below.

Her body lay limp on the ground, her chest struggling to rise and fall. Blood pooled from her body, inking the yellow flowers below with their crimson. Flowey grew nearby, contemplating the scene with joy as always.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" he said. "How does it feel? Regaining your memories and purpose?" Frisk did not answer. Instead, she lowered herself onto her hands and knees, crawling towards the collapsed body of Toriel. The bloodlust she had felt so strongly moments ago was all but gone now, leaving behind an emotionless husk.

Her soul receded into her chest. She dropped the bloody knife in her hand, letting it rest amongst the stained flowers.

[Feel good?] The voice asked, softer now. [I sure do.]

Frisk placed a small hand on Toriel's forehead, brushing the soft, white fur. The woman's eyes pulled open once more, gazing weakly at the tiny human. Despite her condition, despite what Frisk had done to her, she lifted up a heavy paw, placing it on her cheek. She brushed away some tears as Frisk held loosely onto her wrist, sniffling back snot.

"This is pathetic, let her die so we can move on," complained Flowey, shooting Frisk an irritating look. He ruffled his petals impatiently, glancing between Toriel's body and the girl.

[Come on, the rest of the Underground awaits. And that flower's damn monologue.]

Toriel's eyelids slid closed again, the rise and fall of her chest ceasing altogether. Her paw slid from her cheek, falling limply to her side. Frisk sat there in silence, unsure what to say or what to do. The voice urged her to keep going but right now, all she wanted to do was sit with Toriel.

"There, the deed is done. Get up," commanded Flowey. Frisk did not. Flowey slithered closer to her, though she did not move her gaze. "Where's my best friend? She was here mere moments ago. Where is that girl with no remorse? No care for anything. I know she's right there inside you, as always," he said all this with a false kindness in his voice.

[…really messed things up.] Parts of its words were obscured by a contorted hissing sound.

"Despite everything, it's still _you_ , huh?" uttered Flowey, that kindness washing away from his voice immediately. His petals drooped as he rolled his eyes condescendingly. "Or maybe, it's not," he said with a hint of optimism. "It all depends on what you do from here on in." He shuffled closer to the silent Frisk, leaning in close.

"Maybe my best friend is still in there, still tainting that overly sweet soul of yours."

With a final cackle as always, half-hearted this time, he pulled himself back into the ground, throwing the cavern back into silence.

The moon was out over the surface now, its silver light filtering in a single beam onto the flower patch below, illuminating the forms of Toriel and Frisk. The human's body rocked back and forward slightly as she called Toriel's name under her breath. She knew there was little point in doing so though – she was gone.

The void within her was hit with a wall of emotion as she threw back her head and screamed at the heavens above. Her wails were heard by no one – right now, it was her and her alone in the caverns of the Ruins. She hushed up soon enough, pulling her hands away from Toriel's face.

How could she have done this all those times? What possessed her to strike such a kind being? Or any of the monsters here? The answer was on the tip of her tongue, though she couldn't quite speak it. She hugged her knees close to her chest, humming that tune Toriel always hummed to herself. The notes flowed throughout the cavern solemnly, no one around to hear it.

She had no clue what to do now.

Even her resurfaced memories only showed her walking out of the gates to the Ruins and into an expanse of white, grinning like a maniac. But she had no desire to do so as it were. She stared at her hands, at the blood, Toriel's blood, that inked them. She tried her best to wipe it all off on her shorts, yet some residue still remained.

Hopeless, she sat there and cried pitifully until the moon had shifted its place in the sky, swathing the cavern in darkness once more.

[You can't stay here forever.] The voice finally spoke up, sounding mildly impatient. [You should keep going, continue gaining LOVE. As you know, you get quite a lot from Toriel.] She laughed at her sick joke. Frisk didn't.

"No," she answered swiftly. She knew little of what was beyond that door and, after witnessing what she was capable of; she didn't want to find out. If there were other monsters behind that door, it's likely that she would be a threat to them.

[Then what are you going to do? Try to save them again? That went terribly last time. And I doubt you'll persist with it anyway, with me here and all.]

"Save…them," the words sounded so familiar to the girl, so pure. She clutched them close to her heart as she repeated them over and over in her mind, staring at Toriel's form as she thought. Yes, she should save them. Save them from Flowey and from the evil voice in her mind that told her to do the unthinkable. Save them from the darkness of this underground labyrinth.

She remembered the first time she thought like this was merely this morning, after she read that book and asked all the monsters about their opinions. It truly did feel right trying to rescue them. Killing them, or anyone for that matter, just seemed so abhorrent to her.

Her brooding heart was filled with determination at the sentiment.

In doing so, a haze of light appeared before her, slowly strengthening its glow. Frisk shielded her eyes, quickly adjusting them to the sight. To her surprise and confusion, a rectangle of orange floated before her, a word glowing in its centre:

RESET.

Yes, she remembered what those were now, what they meant. She sighed in relief, pushing herself shakily to her feet. She could fix this; she could save Toriel and the monsters of the Ruins. Her fingers reached out for the button, just as the voice began to speak again.

[I'm going to kill th…] Its words were obscured by static this time. It stopped speaking for a few moments, huffed a sigh, and then went on. [But, whatever. I can bide my time for as long as you need to come to your senses.] The voice's hold grew dimmer as Frisk came close to pressing the holographic button. [It's not a true RESET, Flowey will remember, you know.]

But Frisk didn't care, as long as she was given another chance to be happy and safe in Toriel's loving embrace.


	8. Begin Again

Her fingers graced the button with a light, pinging sound echoing throughout the cavern. Instantly, the shadows around her grew, stretching beyond sight and devouring the cave. In a flash, the shadows turned to white, dumping Frisk in an expanse of nothingness, her body hovering. She was frightened for a few moments, but deep down, her memories reminded her that there was nothing to be afraid of, that the process would go as normal.

The voice’s presence was still there, always in her mind. Frisk, now waiting for the world to RESET, decided she might as well ask the voice who it was anyway – she had never made the effort to ask it.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice echoing through the void of time and space.

This time, her voice came loud and clear, free from the confines of her mind for a few moments.

“Oh, right, you forgot who I am. Such a shame,” it sighed. Frisk identified the voice as female now, slightly higher pitched and more harsh than hers. “Search those new memories of those and those nightmares you had not long ago. The answer will come to you.” The way she spoke made Frisk uneasy, as if the voice was planning something. She wracked her brains as told, yet the name still did not come to her.

Although, she did remember _who_ she was: the epitome of human evil. But that didn’t come as a surprise to Frisk, she already had a feeling she was something dreadful. Not only that, but she remembered that in every RESET, every play through, she had always been there in the corners of her mind, egging her on and making her do things she would never normally do. The voice laughed at her reaction, clearly amused.

“Being frightened of me by this point would be pointless – I’m as much of a part of you as your own soul. Forever inseparable, you and I. Like I told you before, we’re not so different. We’ve slaughtered just as many monsters as one another, held that very same knife in our hands. How romantic,” the voice drawled on, getting caught up in her own monologue. Frisk tensed up at the malice ringing in her tone.

Frisk then noticed the whiteness around her shimmer and rippling like waves.

“Any who, looks like the fuzz is clearing. Let’s see if you can actually do it this time, huh? Free everyone? You know I will still win in the end, no matter how ‘good’ you try to be. Why do you always insist on doing things the hard way?”

The whiteness rippled more violently, it’s light increasing, prompting Frisk to shield her eyes. A hum filled the air, increasing rapidly in intensity to the point where in rung in her ears in a continuous tone. Then suddenly, she felt all knowing fade from her mind as her eyes fell closed, throwing her into a sea of darkness.

 

~*~

 

Her vision was blurry due to the pain pounding in her head. It took a few minutes to regain her composure and pull her aching body into a sitting position. Tears still dripped down her cheeks, though they were at a slower pace now. Wiping tears and snot away with her sleeve, she tried to compose herself.

She always found herself crying when she awoke from a RESET.

She stared at the space before her, finding that a bed of buttercups had cushioned her fall. A number of them were crushed due to the weight of her body. She reached a small hand to her head, finding that a few stray petals had become entangled in her locks of brown hair. She picked them out as she turned her attention above.

[Well, have fun while it lasts.]

Frisk pushed herself to her feet much quicker this time, though she still stumbled some. Dusting down her sweater, she stooped down and picked up a stick, out of tradition. Memories of this place swum in and out of her mind now, giving her plenty of indications of what to do now.

She flinched at the memories, her entire body twitching for a moment. She reminded herself that things will not end up like that, never again. Yet despite her feeble encouragement, she was still unsure of her abilities.

She shouldered her sins as best as she could, holding back pangs of immense guilt as she stepped onwards, trying to steady her breath. She abruptly stopped after having only taken a couple steps.

Foreboding came to her now as she wondered if she should even go on. After everything she had done, she had no right to stand in the presence of her once friends. She wondered if that time before was the only time she had made an effort to spare everyone. She shuddered at the thought.

"We're going to save them," she uttered under her breath repeatedly as she pushed herself onwards.

Boots clunking on the rocky ground, she passed through the stone pillars and into the next cave, her pace slowing as she recalled what happened next. Her eyes settled on the grove of green sprouting from the cracks in the ground, gazing at the flower being tossed gently by the draught.

"Howdy!" He called out to her, face shimmering with mock. He hadn't even bothered with the facade this time. Frisk then recalled that he only ever introduced himself like that after a TRUE RESET. She was really going to have to get used to these new-found memories. Although most of her wished they were memories of niceties, not murder.

"So you're really going to go for the Pacifist route this time?" He sneered, leaning backwards on his stem as if he were disgusted. "Guess the events of the previous timeline really got to you, heh." Frisk narrowed her eyes even tighter as she waited for him to shut up. She was currently fighting back her desire to smack him with the stick she was holding as that would be going against her pacifistic goals.

"You made me hurt mom," she uttered, not that it mattered since Flowey simply snorted humorously.

"And I'll kill her myself this time if you take too long. A week at most should do before I'll start killing again, plenty of time to be all sentimental about meaningless things."

"And don't lie; you loved the thrill of the kill."

Frisk took a number of steps past Flowey, turning her back to him. She could feel his sly gaze burning into her back like two hot embers. He chuckled lowly.

"I'll be watching," he trilled as Frisk headed towards the end of the cavern and into the next. She was jumping the gun here; usually she would humour and chat with Flowey before progressing. He laughed as she left the Grove behind, flexing her fists.

[I'm going to miss that] Mused the voice sarcastically. [He gets so clingy to his bestie.] Her voice was distant, not aiming for control of Frisk's mind for the time being.

Mere moments later, Frisk noticed Toriel emerge from the murky darkness, quick to see the small human. Gasping dramatically, she rushed over, kneeling down to Frisk's level. Frisk bit her lip as a feeling washed over her - like she had just seen a ghost. She valiantly fought the urge to cry and hug her mother close.

She knew Toriel would not remember her.

"My child!" She exclaimed, placing a fuzzy hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" Frisk hadn't composed herself enough yet to speak so she simply nodded. Toriel sighed expansively before backing away from her. That wonderful kindness glimmered in her copper eyes as she went on. "You must be terribly frightened. Come, I shall guide you through the catacombs."

Dragging her feet a little, Frisk fell into step behind Toriel, trying her hardest to reassure herself for the thousandth time that Toriel would live this time. It seemed like such an impossible feat to Frisk yet deep, deep down, she was determined that she'd be able to do it.

 

~*~

 

Toriel diligently led the small human through the winding, trap filled labyrinth that was the Ruins with ease, having found that Frisk was rather adept at all the puzzles. Frisk would often gaze up at Toriel with a cheery, relief smile gracing her lips. Toriel returned her smile just as warmly.

Frisk found herself waiting once again, for the 41st time, in that long corridor with the crumbling marble pillars, awaiting Toriel's return. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she tried to come up with something to keep herself occupied. Closing her eyes with a trembling sigh, she occupied her mind with thoughts of how to go about this.

She wanted to stay with Toriel for another three months, regain all those memories they had lost in the RESET. Yet, according to Flowey, he would only give her a week before he would start slaughtering all the monsters in the Ruins once more.

So the real question was how was she going to get past Toriel? She had gotten past her before but all the times she remembered involved killing her or brushing her aside. The only fairly decent method she could remember was simply pestering her about leaving the Ruins and following her down to the basement. There, they would engage in battle and Frisk would spare Toriel. That only happened thrice, according to the reels in her mind.

[It’s up to you what you do] The voice reminded her. [Killing her works better for me but since I win either way…? You know, just do whatever your little soul pleases.]

Suddenly, Frisk sprung to her feet, the action being completely against her own whims. She panicked somewhat, trying to flex her hands to assure that she had regained control of her body. However, they did not respond. Instead, she began to move towards the entrance to the next cavern, entirely against her consent.

[I’m not waiting again.]

Frisk felt the control flow back into her veins as she came to a stop, debating whether or not she should go back to the pillar or not. The voice muttered something about knowing the way anyway and that sitting around would waste unnecessary time. Almost against her will, Frisk gave in and guiltily slinked past an inquisitive Froggit towards the ever-present piles of crinkly leaves.

She did not want to disobey Toriel but it was not like she hadn’t done it before.

Yet the guilt only grew as she traversed the familiar puzzled halls of the Ruins, facing off against the same monsters.

She was overjoyed to meet Napstablook again, so much so that she startled him by attempting to hug him. The voice kindly reminded her that [he’s a damn ghost stop trying to hug him]. But, unlike every other time she could recall, she actually managed to convince the ghost to tag along with her on the way to Toriel’s home. They did not speak to one another along the way, but Frisk could sense that Blooky had lightened up a little and frankly so did she.

As soon as the ghost saw Toriel however, he muttered a string of stuttered apologies and disappeared before the boss monster saw him. Frisk was upset by his disappearance but she didn’t have much time to grieve before Toriel was fawning over her, checking to make sure she had not been injured, reminding her sternly that she had told her to wait. But all the harshness was soon washed from her tone as she backed away from the girl, dusting down her tunic.

“Well, I’m glad that you are alright, practically unscathed,” she said with a meek smile. With that, she led Frisk inside her cosy home. The human had to hold back tears as she took a deep breath, taking in the sweet scent of cinnamon and butterscotch. She was introduced to her room again, giggling as Toriel ruffled her locks of messy brown hair. She went away to tend to the pie thus leaving Frisk to explore on her own.

Her heart sunk in her chest as Toriel’s form retreated into the kitchen. Tearing her eyes away, Frisk headed into her room, closing the door gently behind her. She stood there for a few moments, taking in the familiar sights of the place. With her new memories, she found that she considered the place as more of a home than any place up on the surface.

She clutched a hand around her heart, filled with anguish at the fact that she could not stay here longer. It was not just Flowey’s threats, but these new memories too.

 

She felt as though she did not deserve to be here, that she was unworthy of Toriel’s love.

 


	9. Into the Cold

**Chapter Nine: Into the Cold**

Nights in the Ruins were always silent. Deep beneath the ground, the hoot of owls, the fluttering of bats and the melody of crickets fell on deaf ears. In fact, the only indication that night had fallen at all was that sunlight had ceased to lance down from the cracks in the cavern ceiling.

Frisk sat outside Home, patting at a pile of dead leaves in front of her. The turned the leaves over in her hands, crinkling through them as she gathered together her determination. Within her was still the reluctant to leave but she had to power through that in order to continue. The voice continued its silence, only providing small glimmers of emotion Frisk struggled to distinguish from her own. The voice made her feel like she was missing something which Frisk assumed was the monsters’ lives.

With shaking hands, Frisk finished tying a ribbon in her hair (the voice protested, saying that it was too prissy to wear). Eventually, Frisk got to her feet, finally brewing enough strength in her soul to continue. Heading back inside, she gently closed the door behind her, quiet enough as to assure she would not wake Toriel. Murky darkness lay thick in the house but Frisk’s eyes were well adjusted to it. She made her way down the hall, as if on instinct.

She found herself staring in Toriel’s room again, gazing down at her sleeping form. Her body rose and fell with her breaths, her soft snores echoing throughout the room. Frisk’s heart tightened in her chest. She had never done this before, leaving while Toriel was asleep that is. She was unable to stop her from her realm of slumber, something that made Frisk feel extremely guilty. Toriel would be horrified when she awoke and found that she was missing.

So she wrote her a note, trying her best to spell and write the letters correctly. She placed the note on Toriel’s desk before heading back over to her bedside. Gingerly, she placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, uttering an apology. Tears pricked her eyes once more but she blinked them back. She was about to save Toriel – spare, Toriel. She had to do this.

She left the room, giving one final glance towards Toriel before closing the door behind her. Frisk made towards the stairs, only to find that her body had other ideas. Instead, she headed back into her own room, grabbing a backpack from the very bottom of the toy chest.

[Easier than stuffing everything in your pockets] The voice explained.

Frisk’s anxiety was only worsened by the voice’s control of her body, dragging her away from her room and forcing her into the kitchen. Standing on a stool and a number of thick snail books, Frisk found herself reaching up to the very top of the cupboards, dust coating her hand as she felt for something. With a grimace, she nicked herself on something sharp. Yet she did not pull away, instead grasping the sharp object and drawing it down.

It’s blade glittered keenly in her eyes, despite the lack of light. It was as if it was excited to see her, overjoyed to see its friend once more. Frisk’s hands began to shake off her own accord as she slid the knife into her backpack. She told the voice that she had no need for such a thing but it ignored her, staying silent until she had finished controlling her. The backpack rested on Frisk’s back now, the presence of the knife sending chills down her spine.

[Just in case you change your mind. You know, you could head back to mom’s room now. Kill her and make my job easier later, what do you say? Come on, I know you want to and if not, I can make you want to.]

Frisk did not answer, wrapped her arms around her as she shook her head. The voice chuckled just as a feeling of dull bloodlust began to build at the back of her mind. An image of Toriel’s deceased and bloody corpse flickered in her mind, prompting bile to rise up Frisk’s throat along with another surge of bloodlust. Fighting against it all, she pushed herself towards the basement stairs.

Her footsteps echoed hollowly throughout the walls as she headed into the dark tunnels of the basement, finding that the darkness was so thick there that even she had trouble seeing what was in front of her. She was half-expecting Toriel to come running downstairs and scold her but no such thing happened – she made it to the looming doors of the Ruins without hustle.

She pressed her hands against the purple delta rune engraved in the stone, sighed, and took a glance behind her. She could have sworn she saw something flicker within the shadows, churn. Fear welled within her core as the feeling that something was watching her came over her.

[Go.] The voice urged onwards in a clipped tone, taking brief control of Frisk’s body as she pushed against the door with all her might. A deafening creak echoed throughout the air, followed by the shift of loose rocks and dust. The debris was raining down on Frisk as she slid her way through the gap, heart thudding tentatively in her chest.

Beyond stretched a long corridor, a gradient of light shining from a single split in the wall far ahead. Gulping back a ball of spit, Frisk wiped her brow with the back of her hand as she made her way towards the light. She knew what was waiting for her at the end of this seemingly innocent corridor now – a certain flower.

He grinned wickedly as he spotted her, standing rigid as she came to a steady halt before him.

“Great, you didn’t take forever and a day to get here this time,” he chuckled. “There’s not anything special that I need to say to you so I’ll leave you with this…” The white bud of his face was stained black as his eyes and mouth began to glow a crimson red. “Just go straight to me, right to the barrier. How you choose to get there, well, maybe it isn’t your choice how you get there – just don’t waste time. I’ll be following as always, maybe we can get nicecream?” His words dripped with sarcasm as another giggle rolled from his lips.

He had begun to withdraw into the ground when he seemed to remember something. His face returned to its normal plainness as he folded his leaves over one another, lowering his eyebrows in a glare. “Oh, and don’t go places you shouldn’t, either. The last time you did that…” he seemed lost for words, “…you know, never mind, just heed the warning.” He brightened up and shuffled his petals. Then he unceremoniously popped back into the ground, displacing the dirt slightly in his wake.

Frisk stepped over the dirt, silently praying that the flower would not give her more trouble than usual. But, from the way he was speaking to her before, she had a feeling that he would make his presence known again too soon. As she paced towards the final gate of the Ruins, a cold gust of air picked at her clothes and hair, messing them up a little. In doing so, the corners of her mind began to singe dully. Frisk tried her hardest to ignore it as she stepped before the looming gates.

She felt like there was a wild animal struggling inside her mind for release as she readied her hands on the icy surface, taking a deep breath. She did not look back this time, partially in fear she may see moving shadows or Flowey again. Shunting all of her weight against the gates, she managed to open it enough to allow her small form to push through. As soon as the doors had been opened, freezing wind lashed at her flesh as if trying to push her back into the Ruins. She fought back, breaking through gates and into the realm beyond.

Hot pain flashed through her cells as she was nearly brought to her knees. She wrapped her arms around her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut. That caged beast in her mind was free now, letting loose a stream of images and memories in the process. They were scattered here, there and everywhere, showing her pictures of a pair of skeletons and some dogs and rabbits – all dying or dead. She bit her lip hard as tears came to her eyes from both the pain and the sting of the wind.

“Hey kiddo…back again, right?” said a gruff voice that snapped her out of her pained daze long enough to look around her. Through the sleet and hail she managed to spot a figure leaning against the wall beside the gates, hands stuffed into the pockets of a blue jacket. Frisk noticed him move slightly, a flash of pale blue light bringing her gaze to the figure’s face.

She identified him as one of the skeletons from the images that were still streaming through her mind. She could imagine him grinning fixedly through the storm. “Ya know, you don’t look so crash hot…is all those resets finally slowing you down? About time.” The memories in her mind ceased in their rolling as the Voice swore vehemently.

“Hello, comedian,” muttered Frisk in the words of the Voice, completely against her will. She noticed the skeleton tense, the blue light glowing brighter in the process. Frisk, realising what she had said, slapped her hands over her mouth in shock for a few moments before replying. “Uh…sorry! That wasn’t me…I-!” She was cut off by a gloved hand covering her mouth. The skeleton was standing right before her now, the pinpricks of light in his sockets blazing with an intense glare.

“Cut the crap. We’ve been doing this song and dance for forty somethin’ resets now. No matter what tricks you pull, I know it’s _you_ in there and not her,” he told her. “I can’t afford to stand by and let you do as you wish any longer.” His voice was strained as he tried to keep his calm. Cerulean flames licked at his eye sockets now, striking fear into Frisk’s heart. She knew she had known this skeleton, aware of the fact she had probably killed him, but this did not mean his actions had not scared her.

He raised his other hand, encasing it in a burst of flames that matched the ones in his eye. “How about we end it here, huh? I’ve decided I’m not letting you go any further in this timeline,” he told her. “I’ve watched my broth…er…” He found himself trailing off right in the middle of his speech.

Tears now streamed from Frisk’s eyes, some of being stolen away by the blistering winds. Sans reluctantly let go of her, still poised to attack. Frisk mumbled incoherent nonsense, mixed with a flurry of apologies as she backed away from the skeleton. He seemed the slightest bit surprised at her actions. He then brought his gaze to the red ribbon in her hair and the sheer look of fear and guilt etched into her face.

 

He realised that it was _Frisk_ he was talking to.

 

He sighed heavily, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Geez...I’m sorry kid. That, uh, was a lot to take in, huh? Maybe a tad harsh.” He took a few steps towards her as the blue light ceased. Frisk did not fully remember him as of yet, being only able to recall fractured memories of who he was and their time together. She was aware of the fact that he was important to her and many others, aware of the fact she had killed him for fun. She was hit with an onslaught of sudden guilt and horror that was almost unjustified due to her lack of memory. She fell to her hands and knees, her bare flesh stinging at the contact with the snow.

Sans took another careful step forward. “Uh…forget about it.” Frisk barely heard him speak over the sound of her sobbing and the howling of the wind. Sans reminded himself that his actions were completely justified, that after everything she’s done, there was no way he would be able to treat her like they had just met, that she was innocent. But right now, he saw a flicker of the girl she used to be and he was going to embrace it.

“Look, I’ll explain things to you once we get to some shelter, kay?” he said as softly as he could. “There’ll be ketchup for us to drink while we, heh, **ketch-up**.” Frisk found herself smiling through her tears at the joke, now dealing with the uprise of a surge of nostalgia. A few moments later, she made the effort to pick herself up and face the skeleton.

[God, is crying all you can do?…And that pun was woeful, even for him.]

Frisk could tell that the skeleton was still ready to attack at any given moment as they walked side by side through the blizzard towards a small, wooden shelter built on the side of the path. It seemed pretty well built, most likely crafted from the timber from the woods behind it. Once inside, Frisk noticed the bottles and jars of relish and various condiments lying in abandon here and there, the place smelling of aged pine, musk and sauce.

Now safely nestled under the counter, both human and skeleton were sheltered from the vicious lashings of the storm. It had never occurred to Frisk to drink ketchup before but at that moment, she was gratefully accepting a bottle from Sans and taking a few wary sips. She wrinkled her nose up at the taste but kept drinking anyway, prompting Sans to chuckle slightly as he drank from his own bottle.

“You’ve never humoured me like that before, heh,” he noted. He kept as much distance as he could manage away from her, knowing full well that at any given moment, _she_ would retake her body and lash out at him.

For once, Sans was at a loss for what to say. He wasn’t kidding about the kid having gone through a collective forty resets that involved her murdering all of monster-kind in various ways. He was surprised that Frisk was able to regain her control, if only temporarily. Memories of his own tingled at the back of his mind, yet he could not withdraw them. He knew that within those memories were answers to this dilemma but, for the time being he decided to ask the human for their retelling of the incidents.

He coughed falsely, drawing the girl’s attention. “So it’s you…Frisk, this time?” The human nodded as she took another contemplative sip from her ketchup. The Voice was oddly silent at the moment, though a low mumble could be heard, as if it were whispering to herself.

“Um…can I…ask you something?” she put forward, coyly looking up at the skeleton. His permanent smile wavered slightly at the dire look in her eyes. She did not speak much but when she did, it was usually important. He placed his finished ketchup bottle beside of him, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Fire away,” he said. Frisk shuffled on the snow beneath her, withdrawing her chin into the collar of her jumper.

“Are you someone I was friends with? Were you someone I could trust?” she questioned, her eyes opening slightly more to reveal a look of genuine concern. Sans sighed heavily, not sure how to put this towards someone who, from the looks of things, was having trouble remembering the events herself. “You interrupted me when I was getting all those horrible flashbacks which is okay I guess but…I got to know.”

“Depends on what you do from here on in, bucko. You’ve been on a murderous rampage lately so I’m not going to trust you again straight away or ever, even. In terms of placing your trust in me? Don’t. I’m not the most trustworthy guy, no matter what the others tell you. Just know I won’t actually harm you unless you slip up and hurt one of my friends.”

Sans watched her face flicker into a grimace as her mind was overloaded with more flashes of the dead bodies of monsters. She was already growing tired of all this morbidity. She hung her head in her hands in shame and guilt. She sobbed silently for a good while, feeling better and better the more she let her feelings out. For some reason, being around this skeleton she barely knew made her feel like things were okay.

Once she had calmed down, she noticed Sans was holding out a gloved hand towards her.

“So, I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I?” he chuckled, his grin growing wider. The girl realised what he was getting at and giggled. She already knew his name, her partially formed memories told her but it was a tradition for him to introduce himself in each timeline in some way. She gingerly took it, only to recoil in shock after hearing an obnoxious farting sound.

“The ol’ whoopee cushion in the hand trick,” he sighed nostalgically. “Works on _you_ every time.” Frisk giggled half-heartedly, unable to stop the creeping blush over her cheeks. “Anyway. I’m Sans, Sans the skeleton.” Frisk nodded understandingly and decided to introduce herself. She wondered why she had never done so before right off the bat.

“And I’m Frisk, Frisk the human,” she replied with a curt bow of her head. The pair laughed awkwardly together, their laughter quickly being drowned out by the roar of the wind. Frisk drew her jumper closer around her, if that was even possible, wishing that she was wearing some longer pants. Sans did not seem to care though. Instead, he stood, peering out over the outpost.

“You should get going. Since Pap’s not out this late you should be able to get to town without too many issues,” he advised, shielding his eyes with a hand as the wind threw icy darts at him. “Storm should calm down soon.” Part of Frisk wanted to do as she was told and head towards town, but the other part of her felt like she had unfinished business here.

“O-one last question,” she said, raising her voice. “What…is it I’m supposed to be doing…exactly. I feel determined to save everyone but…not overly so. Like this feeling I have isn’t mine anymore…?” Sans turned his attention back towards her, looking vaguely concerned.

“It’ll come back to you. This memory loss’s killin you, huh?” he noted. “How you even lost your memory is beyond me. You’re the only one, apart from that damn flower, that remembers everything in detail.” Frisk pushed herself to her feet, shuddering violently as the wind shoved her to the side a little. She gave Sans a shrug to which he merely sighed again.

“Well, there’s nothin’ I can do to help ya,” he replied. “Best thing you can do is leave the Underground without messing around too much. Just…leave us monsters be.”

Sans had left the outpost now, heading off in the direction of the Ruins. His form was already obscured by the storm. Frisk steadied her hands on the counter, scolding herself for keeping Sans for so long, as she spoke. “Sans, don’t you want to see the surface?” The skeleton kept walking without so much as a flinch; either he hadn’t heard or he didn’t care. It was mere moments later that his form completely disappeared in a single gust of icy wind, leaving Frisk both awed and mystified. Deep within her, she wished that she remembered who he was, remembered what she felt for him.

 

[You’ll remember how much you hated him. He was no friend of yours and never will be.]

 

Frisk shuddered in the wind, forcing herself to forget the voice’s vehement words. She was going to befriend everyone in the Underground, she had to – it was her true purpose here. Or so something deep inside her gladly informed her. She considered that deep feeling for a moment, trying to bring it more to light. But as soon as she recognised it, that presence disappeared, leading her to put it behind her and walk on.


End file.
